Continuing Story of Impressionistic Artwork and Southern Living Journey

It's December and memories of Christmas past and growing up Southern are fun, silly and dramatic.  We had traditions and one was attending Midnight Mass.  It was different growing up Catholic in a Protestant community.  No one else made the 15 mile journey to church at Midnight on Christmas Eve.  My dad only went to church with us twice a year, once was Christmas Eve and the other was Easter.  He was a Southern Baptist who didn't go to church.  My stepmother was the Catholic.  That was unusual too in a small Southern town to grow up with a stepparent.  We would travel the road to church, such a memorable ride as I remember it.  The stars so bright and the night so dark with thought of a Holy Night so long ago and so far, away.  The music was beautiful, I loved the music, I felt the "Joy to the World" and "Ava Maria" as I listened to the choir.  The church was brightly decorated, and it was crowded.  I always loved the angels.  I was an angel once in a Christmas play, tin foil halo and paper wings.   My siblings and I would be so excited for church to end so we could get home.   Santa would have visited our house while we were gone.  Of course, he would leave us gifts after all we had been "good", after all we went to church to celebrate the birth of Jesus.  Sometimes my dad would make a detour at 1:30 AM to go by my aunt and uncles truck stop.  We were so anxious to get home but we had breakfast with them at the truck stop.  My cousin would play the juke box, so one of my Christmas carol favorites was "Blueberry Hill", he loved that song.  Thanks for letting me share a quick memory that made me smile.  This is the memory that inspires my angels.  Those lovely Christmas Eve Memories.  Check them out on my website

Trish Gober - Portfolio of Works: Figurative      www.trishgoberart.com

Do you have a memory to share?