The Grinch

“Hannah, can I talk to you for a second?” I hear from over my shoulder.

“Uh- yeah?” I respond with my mouth full of ice-cream, trying to swallow.

“So, you know how we always do the Grinch before we open presents?” Grandpa asks.

“Yes.” It’s my favorite tradition. I don’t think I could ever forget.

“Would you be okay if Agnete and Norman did it this year? They’re here for the first time, and I know you love to do it. Is that okay?”

I’ve been doing it for 10 years.  It’s our family tradition, reading How The Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss to teach kids the true meaning of Christmas.  I’m feeling sad. I wonder why it bothers me so much to give it up. In my thoughts, I drift back to Christmas Eve ten years ago.

10 years earlier

 “Kids! Dessert!” My grandma yells from upstairs. My cousins run up from the basement with me trailing far behind.  It's hard to keep up with my legs being half the size of theirs. Mom hands me a big bowl of ice cream. “Thank you!” I say. I sit on my knees with my back as straight as possible so I can look over the table at my family. The house is filled with chatter, laughter, and warmth, safe from the white flurry that started outside.

“When are we doing presents?” I ask my mom who is sitting next to me.

“Hannah, Christmas Eve is not about the gifts.” That’s not why I was asking.

Five minutes later I ask again, still not caring about the gifts, “When are we doing gifts?”

“Hannah,” My mom says sternly. I go back to eating ice cream, not daring to ask again.

“Presents!” My grandpa yells after what feels like an eternity. I run to the couch, waiting for my favorite part of the night. I sit on the blue couch right in front of the fireplace on my mom’s lap. The best spot in the living room. My spot. As I sit there waiting intently, my sister and brother don't sit on the fireplace like they usually do. Instead, they sit on the other side of the blue couch with the rest of my cousins. Everyone shuffles into the living room knowing we aren’t opening presents yet.

My grandpa grabs The Grinch book and stuffed animal. He looks at me and asks,

“Hannah, do you want to read it with me this year?” I jump up off my mom’s lap not believing it’s finally my turn!

“YES!” I run to the fireplace barely believing I’m finally old enough. I take the Grinch stuffed animal and the book into my arms and sit down on the fireplace proudly. I struggle to adjust the two items that are now “mine”. I have the biggest smile on my face while my feet swing back and forth. I have never been happier.

My siblings and cousins sit opposite me on the blue couch smiling back at me. My smile fades slightly as I look at them. I’m in their spot. But they have these soft smiles that only Christmas Eve can bring. I’m confused. Why do they look so delighted. Almost proud.

Then my grandpa starts reading. Everyone is smiling, not in a fake Christmas Eve smile, but a kind of smile that’s pure joy. In that moment I feel like the most special girl in the world. I take my job very seriously.  I make sure to turn the book at exactly the right time as my grandpa reads the story in his funny Grinch voice.

We reach the last page and the last line.  I close the book.  In that moment I have no thoughts about presents or what Santa is going to bring me the next morning. I’m just wishing it didn’t have to end and hoping I can do this next year.  I feel a little sad because my favorite part of the night is over.

We open our gifts, but nobody has those smiles we did just ten minutes earlier, while my grandpa was doing his Grinch voice that makes everyone laugh.  Still, I have claimed my new spot on the fireplace next to my grandpa.  It will be mine for the next ten years.

Present day

“Yes of course!” My mind snaps back into the present and my grandpa’s question.  He smiles.  “Thank you. I know it will mean a lot to them.” I slowly walk back to the table with a slightly faded smile and finished my melting ice cream. Across the table I hear Norman ask, “When are we doing presents?” That tiny part of me that felt sad now vanishes.

“Presents!” My grandpa yells. For the first time in 10 years, I’m back on the blue couch. Except this time, I’m sitting with my siblings and cousins instead of on my mom’s lap. Instead of sitting on the fireplace holding the book with my grandpa, I’m watching him read it with my little cousins. As Norman’s fingers fidget with the stuffed animal and Agnete flips the pages, I finally understand why my older cousins weren’t sad ten years ago, giving place to me. I remember their ear-to-ear smiles.  And they’re still smiling now.  The innocence on their faces reminds me why we still read this book every year.

I look back at Norman and Agnete. As the book closes, and Agnete and Norman pass out the presents under the same tree I used to, I wonder who the first person was to read The Grinch on Christmas Eve.

“Give, and it will be given to you.  A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap.  For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”  Luke 6:38