Editor’s Note

My aunt — my mom’s sister — lived with us when I was little, and although I was devoted to her, and she was my favorite aunt of all, when it came right down to it, I wanted to be with Mommy.

I made this clear while we were Christmas shopping. It was a wet night, and my parents, my aunt, and I were at the big shopping center near our home. Going there this time of year was magic. I couldn’t get enough of it. The three wise men, complete with camels, encamped beside JCPenneys. Toy soldiers marched through an arbor of candy canes at Taylor’s Department Store, and the star of Bethlehem shone from atop the store’s second story.

We got out of Dad’s car near the three kings and headed into Penneys. But inside the store the adults stopped to consider their plans. My mother bent down to me. “Stay with Aunt Aggie,” she said. She and my father would be right back.

I don’t know how small I was, but I hadn’t started school yet. I was at an age where my dreams were so vivid, I confused them with waking life.

I did not wait long before deciding to follow my mother. I saw a lady in a babushka — my mother wore babushkas then — walking into the rain, so I followed her into the night.

When I think about it now, it frightens me. A child in red rubber boots wandering into a parking lot in the dark, following a stranger.

My next memory has me sitting on a counter in Penneys. Two women and a man try to talk to me. I know they work there because they don’t wear coats. They have given me chocolate, which I clutched in hot little fists. It melts over my hands and, wiping my tears, I smear it on my face. I know my name, and my address, and my phone number, but I cannot stop wailing long enough to tell them.

Then out of nowhere my parents appear. I actually remember them surrounded by light, the way medieval painters depict Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. It was, I think, a trick of attention, because nothing else in Penneys mattered as much as those two people, my dad so young, in his fuzzy white jacket, my mother, pretty, in her babushka. My poor abandoned aunt was there too, a little behind them.

So Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. You’re busy and maybe even harassed by all the holiday preparations. I know how it goes. But don’t let the people who love you out of your sight. Embrace them while they’re still here. It’s a dark, cold night without them, and not even chocolate can fill the void.

As I climbed into the car to go home, one red boot slipped off and landed on the wet pavement. I didn’t say anything about it. I didn’t care. I was with people who loved me. Who cares about a silly boot?

Would that I always had such good sense.