Grandma's Tragic Christmas

I'll never forget the year that Grandma got run over by a reindeer. It was a very sad time for the entire family.

The morning of Christmas day, I had already opened up all my gifts, and was dressed in my nice clothes and Christmas shoes, ready to go over my grandparents house for a big dinner. We packed up the wrapped gifts into the trunk of my dad's rusty Chevrolet and we drove off.

The trip took over an hour with all the snow and traffic, and I fell asleep on the way, with my stuffed purple people eater toy that I had opened that morning under my arm.

When we got there, none of the family was there. My grandfather stood on the porch as we pulled up, a grim look on his face. "Good Love! I'm glad somebody showed up. Grandma was hit by a reindeer on her way home from her friend's house. She told me 'I'll be home for Christmas' but she never did. And now I'm all by myself."

Grandpa started to cry, and I had never seen him like that before. I ran over to him and gave him a big hug. "That's what I like about you, my boy. Always willin to cheer me up. Thank you. Now let's go inside and exchange gifts."

Once the gifts had been opened, and dinner cooking (yes, Grandpa was a great cook as well), we settled in the living room and watched Christmas movies. I looked outside the window, and saw a reindeer pouncing on a form in the snow.

"Stop in the name of love!" I cried, running outdoors and noticing that the form was Grandma. I grabbed a big stick and swatted at the reindeer. I scared the animal away, but was about to chase it, when I heard my father call after me, "Let it be."

We picked up my Grandma's body and took her inside. The funeral was a week later.