Christmas Eve Ramblings

Christmas Eve brings back many memories. I spent several childhood Christmases in England, a few in Texas, and more in Kentucky. What I wanted most was a white Christmas, but, even in Kentucky, heavy snow didn’t occur often. Instead, we might be teased with flurries, fat flakes that floated down from a grey sky, drifting with the wind to the ground and melting in seconds. More often we would endure bitter cold nights and crisp days, the light, blue skies covered in wispy, white clouds. Layers of clothing, scarves, mittens, and earmuffs never seemed quite enough to combat the chill. That didn’t matter though, for it was the holiday season: time to be happy and, moreover, good!

When I was a child, anticipation overwhelmed me. I counted the days, even the hours, until Christmas morning. Sometimes my brother and I were allowed to open a “Christmas Eve” gift. Otherwise, we endured that final, long night and were up at dawn ready to open presents. My family was not wealthy by any means, but my parents always made sure, within reason, of course, that we received what we had asked “Santa” to bring us. We would wrap ourselves in warm, wool or chenille robes and wait for the coal furnace to crank up enough for the festivities to begin. Those mornings were happy, and years later, when my own sons were with me still, I did all I could to recreate in my own home, a similar atmosphere of warmth and joy.

Years have sprinted by. Times have changed. No children will be tugging me out of bed the minute the sun slips over the horizon tomorrow. Instead my husband and I probably will sleep well into the morning. We celebrated with the grandchildren three days before Christmas this year, and I pretended it was the “real day”. It worked. We had a wonderful celebration with good food, lively conversation, lots of hugs, plenty of photographs, and, of course, those gifts. The highlight for each grandkid this year was receiving a mini iPad. I told my son, Justin, that his children would probably never speak to him again! “Their eyes will be glued, more often than not, to that little illuminated screen,” I told him with a smile. He chuckled, but inside, I believe he must have shuddered slightly.  

Tomorrow, on Christmas, for the first time ever, my husband and I will be at home together, alone. It seems a bit odd, and yet, I am not disheartened. We’ll have a nice day. Gifts for each other (and for our dogs and cat) are under the tree. So, although it is different, it is the same; the nuances of the occasion have just changed somewhat from years past. 2013 has been one of loss, but as with all else, we cannot alter what is. Our love for our family and friends and for the son we lost, is very much alive and well, and on this Christmas Eve, we remember.

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