He was thumbing through the LP collection, antiques now, looking for the one special Christmas album. The thick dust on the cover of the turntable reminded him how long it had been since it had last been used. As he wiped it off he thought for a moment about the evolution of time. Would his grandchildren know how to use this contraption? Would they feel about the old record player as he did about the new mp3 ones? He chuckled at the bewilderment such a conversation would spark.
The girls were due any minute. Both coming homes for Christmas morning; each with her own family in tow. Wasn't it just yesterday he was whisking them off to bed with the caution that old Santa might not make it if they weren't tucked snug in their beds and fast asleep?
He stoked the fire again, making sure it was crackling and popping its own holiday rhythm. He stopped in the kitchen to make sure things were just right - the coffee was percolating and the tea steeping.
The dog announced their arrival and the door was opened before anyone could reach for the bell. Hugs and kisses, smiles, laughter and love filled the room. Presents were opened and breakfast was enjoyed. He caught the girls exchanging curious glances at each other and decided to play along. It was obvious they were silently daring each other to ask first.
"Daddy?" they queried in unison.
Before they could say anymore, Conway Twitty and the Twitty Birds were singing The Twismas Story...
...I still ask to hear it every year.