Christmas is sights, especially the sights of Christmas reflected in the eyes of a child. William Sarayan, American novelist and playwright

In planning for the holidays, I asked my daughter who lives in California if she’ll be bringing mandarins like she’s done in the past. She explained her trees weren’t producing. There’s an enormous difference between the ones I’ve been buying and a freshly picked sweet California mandarin, and I couldn’t get them out of my mind.

I tried reliving the year when my husband and I visited our daughter near Sacramento and toured an orange grove. We walked down rows of orange trees during harvest season and saw plump, ripe oranges hanging on the branches. We got to sample valencias, navels, cara caras, dark red blood oranges, and my favorite, honey mandarins.

With my mind still focused on citrus, I was excited to see that the mandarin truck would be at Baraboo. I couldn’t make it there that day, though, and I had to abandon the goal. 

Hoping for a substitute for fresh mandarins, I made Danish, smearing the top with a sweet orange frosting. I bought orange Tang (a drink I hadn’t thought of in years) and made orange jello. I garnished a lettuce salad with canned mandarins and ate orange sherbet for dessert. I made“wild sweet orange tea” and even sipped Korbel extra smooth brandy “infused with orange spices.” Not even the brandy came close to biting into a juicy California mandarin.

Mandarins, however, kept appearing in my life.

Shortly before my daughter and grandsons’ arrival, she sent a photo of eleven-year-old Mason wearing a huge mandarin medal. He had taken first place for his age group in a local 5-K Mandarin Run.

On their arrival date, it was past midnight, and Mason, his brother, and his mom still hadn’t arrived.  At last, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. At the landing, I flipped on the lights. There stood Mason with his heavy backpack and something hidden behind his back. With a huge smile on his face, and his eyes twinkling like Christmas lights, he said, “Hi, Grammy! I brought you these. I won them in my race.” He proudly thrust a ten-pound bag toward me. A couple of the mandarins fell out and rolled on the floor. “Oops.”

After our hug, he explained, “My brother wanted one, so he opened the bag, but then I had nothing to tie the bag. A couple rolled under the seats of the airplanes, too.”

I pictured him hauling this heavy bag and his backpack through security, on two flights, and having to pick up runaway mandarins. Then, into the rental car for the two-hour drive, and now up the stairs, where he was excitedly offering them to me.

People will give and exchange many gifts this Christmas. The special ones, those that reflect the love, generosity, and commitment of a child, will stay in our memories. The gift of mandarins is one I’ll treasure.