The Crystal Angel wishes everyone a peaceful
season filled with
blessings
Rarely do the staff
or owners of the
Crystal
Angel venture into
memories from Real.
Here
is a piece from co-owner
Tory about a time
before Moove, a fond
memory before the
beanz,
that she felt the
need to share
.
Tory's Christmas
Wish
I guess if I think
about it hard enough,
Christmas is my favorite
time of year. It
is not because of
the presents or the
twinkling
lights, I do not
think.
Growing up on the
ranch away from cable
TV,
or not getting a
radio signal 'cause
of the
mountains that circled
us, or having to
make
plans to just go
into town kept me
isolated
from much of what
Christmas has become
in
the World today. Christmas for me was baking with my Mom and
my sister (Tina),
licking the spoons and loosening the caps of green and
red sprinkles so
when Tina sprinkled the
sugar cookies, it all poured out. LOL. As with a lot of people, Christmas was also
a time to work, to make sure all the barns
were warm enough for the stock, that we had
enough feed, and even on Christmas the stalls
needed to be kept clean. I do not think I remember a Christmas that
we did not have snow on the ground, and I
remember struggling to walk in my Moon Boots
(pink with Strawberry Shortcake pictures
on them) as Mom took us girls to town to
shop at the few stores that were there. We
did not have a Wal-mart near us in those
days, so it was Walgreens, or if Dad had
a good year at the Auctions we would drive
to Grand Junction for a big family outing
at the only mall within 4 hours.
Special Holiday Insert Menu
Going to the Mall was never really about
buying gifts, but how everything sparkled
- the glitter and hanging icicles on trees,
shiny balls of glass on silver hooks, Santa
in his big chair resting on fake cotton snow
with even more sparkles - spending precious
time with each child even though the line
grew longer with each passing minute. Dad would come into our room and tell us
girls that on Saturday we were going to see
Santa and we would jump up and down on the
bed giggling, and then I would carefully
write out my wishes.
It was never a long
list, because without
all the channels
on the television
I had
no idea that I did
not have all those
things
the commercials told
us we just HAD to
have.
Tina would always
hold Moms hand and
I would
grip Dads as we waited
patiently with all
the other kids to
see the man in the
big
chair that seemed
HUGE in those days.
I always let Tina
go first, and she
would
tell Santa her wishes
and then tell him
that
I was her sister
and that I do not
talk but
he should give me
presents anyway.
She would
crawl off his lap
and run over to me
and
whisper, "I
told him about you,
he is
not mad".
I would walk up to
Santa and get on
his massive
lap, my note clutched
in my tiny hand.
I
can still remember
his warm smile as
I handed
my scribbled note
to him on whatever
shape
of notepad I was
using that week -
"Dear
Santa, may I please
have a new saddle
and
new pink cowgirl
boots" and I
always
asked for a party
dress. I never went
to
any parties that
made me wear one,
but it
was something about
just having a party
dress
hanging in my closet
that I dreamed about.
I did get my pink
cowgirl boots one
year
and wore them everywhere,
even to Church.
I think I was 6. I got my new saddle when I was 10, but was
never blessed with a fancy party dress. Probably
because Santa knew I would wear that to Church
as well and we all know ladies never wear
party dresses to Church.
One year, my Dad
had an awful year
at the
Auctions and, although
I did not know it
then, we were almost
broke. Dad got a
part
time job delivering
paper products and
office
supplies for a company
out of Montrose to
stores though out
the mountains. He
would
often bring the small
truck home, spend
the
night and drive East
towards Denver the
next
morning.
Tina and I were helping
Mom around the house
two days before Christmas,
when I heard her
shout from the parlor,
"here comes
your
Dad".
I raised myself up
to peek out the kitchen
window and saw the
red truck coming
down
the snow covered
drive from the County
Road
to our house.
As I look back, it
seems the red truck
was
really a sleigh and
my Dad was Santa. We ran out to meet him - Tina hugging his
leg and me his waist. He told us he had a
surprise for us. He opened the truck, which
was full of notebooks in a rainbow of colors,
pens in almost as many colors, notepads shaped
like hearts and angels and frogs, funny faces
with erasures on their heads for putting
on the top of your pencils - crayons, and
diaries with fancy fabric covers. "Girls, this year Santa told me to let
you choose your own presents and he asked
me to bring them to you", he said smiling.
Tina and I crawled
into the truck and
as
carefully as we were
picking fresh apples,
we chose our Christmas
presents. Mom took
them and wrapped
them in brown paper
sacks
with colorful ribbons,
and although we knew
what was wrapped
in each package,
it did
not matter.
Christmas that year
is one my fondest
memories.
I found out years
later that Dad had
the
"special presents"
taken out of
his pay for the next
two months.
Of course, when the
Spring Auctions came
around things got
better and the notebooks
had been filled,
pencils worn down
from sharpening
them in the "My
Little Pony"
pencil
sharpener (one my
choices from the
red truck),
pens ran out of ink,
and diaries were
filled.
But the memory of
that day, of how
my Dad
and Mom must have
felt with two young
girls
and barely enough
money to keep the
Ranch
afloat, fills my
heart each and every
Christmas.
It is not the gift,
the material thing.
It
is much deeper than
that. It is the memory
and it is the kindness
behind each present
or blessing given
that is the true
gift.
I hope I never forget
that.
Merry Christmas to
each and every one
of
you.
I wish for each of
you that your memories
be as sweet this
year as they have ever been.
Peace and Love to
one and all.
Tory
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Telluride, Colorado 81435
Contact Us: CrystalAngelFashion@earthlink.net
I guess if I think
about it hard enough,
Christmas is my favorite
time of year. It
is not because of
the presents or the
twinkling
lights, I do not
think.
dresses to Church.
smiling.
