Shrieks of Christmas Past

There have been very few times in my life where I got something I really, really wanted for Christmas. I got a lot of things I liked, but not what my heart actually desired. Maybe I didn’t make my wants known to others, maybe they were too expensive or too hard to acquire. Or as my naughty husband implies, I’m just too picky. I doubt I’ll ever know and at this point in life, I don’t even care. But there is one Christmas that stands out where I not only got something I truly wanted, but something I never asked for in the first place.

We were all packed into my sister’s living room, sharing space with crumpled wrapping paper and gifts haphazardly strewn across the floor. The fireplace was warming my backside as I sat at its corner on the floor. The scent of apple and cinnamon candles, turkey, pumpkin pie and wood smoke permeated the air. The crackle of the fire was punctuated by rounds of laughter, thank you and the occasional, “Oh good grief, what am I going to do with that?”

My sister’s gift to me was a good sized box which I dutifully shook, and attempted to weigh, but had no clue what it might actually contain. Imagine my extreme surprise to find a case, not just a box, but a case of Team cereal. I was so excited I actually screamed my delight.

For those of you under the age of, well, just under; Team cereal was the BEST cereal of my generation and our personal favorite. It was healthy too, which made us seem really weird to our friends, but we didn’t care. We noticed in the early nineties, I think, that our usual store quit carrying it. We then excitedly called each other and bought extra boxes to share any time we did happen upon some but eventually, it went the way of the dinosaur and disappeared from sight.

Imagine our heartbreak and disappointment at finding no Team to start our days with. We each sampled unknown, but similar looking cereals, in hopes of finding a suitable replacement but to no avail. Disenchantment and disappointment ruled our mornings (Big Sigh!) until my sister sneakily discovered that it could be ordered by the case from our friendly neighborhood Dillons store.

My ecstasy increased when I offered to share the case with her and she informed me that she had bought her own. Hallelujah, the only threats to my mouth’s eternal bliss were all the kids parading through my house that thought they should be fed. I tried to hide them (the boxes not the kids) but no dice, they had witnessed the opening, they knew I had them somewhere. Alas, I had to share! (Bigger Sigh)

Life was good until I hit that last box and discovered that Dillons could no longer order my beloved Team, even by the case. Woe is me! That was still one of the best Christmas’s and one of the best presents ever. And I’m sure that my shriek of eternal glee is still reverberating around the neighborhood, haunting the houses as a joyful ghost of Christmas past.