Piles of colored paper on the floor, shouts of joy and one after the other of us calling to our parents, “Look at this,” as if the toy was as new to them as it was to us. This special morning, Christmas morning, had been so long awaited we thought it would never come. Our lists of preparations were almost as long as Santa’s list. We thumbed through Sears over and over. We circled in pencil the toys we wanted and turned the pages down so we wouldn’t forget when it came time to write to Santa. With quarters and dimes in hand we went up town and shopped for our parents’ presents then wrapped the gifts we had so carefully chosen. On each gift there was enough paper and tape for ten more gifts. We aggravated my poor mother when we threw tinsel on the tree. Our decorated cookies were works of art. We were as good as we could be.

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.
(And this taxing was first made with Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)
And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.
And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David)
To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.

And so it was, that while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. Christmas is also a birthday celebrated with angels, sheep, donkeys and a camel or two. It was in a manger and a star pointed the way.

I wish I could tell you I had been whisked away to foreign lands on a magic carpet and had no access to the internet as we flew over exotic places, but, instead, I have been prone on the couch mostly sleeping. This week was one of those couple of steps forward and a million steps backward weeks, but last night changed everything. I slept through the whole night. Today I can almost click my heels into the air. Okay, that is an exaggeration, but I do feel really good, and I was able to move off the couch almost as if my body didn’t ache at all. I’m sitting here typing with a big grin on my face. I guess it’s an early Christmas present.

Everyone who drops by to visit talks about the cold. I’m missing all that, and I’m not at all regretful. My house is warm and cozy. From my window here, I can see the birds at the feeders, and I can see the oak trees beside the deck. They are winter with their dead leaves hanging off the ends of the branches. The sun is out but has that icy cold look, that mocking look it gets in winter. The weatherman says maybe snow on Sunday or Monday. I don’t doubt him.

My Christmas cards arrived so I can address them this afternoon. That calls for a syrupy Hallmark movie. I didn’t any yesterday, and I’m having a sugar withdrawal.

Around this time of year, my mother would start to tease us with her, “I know what you’re getting for Christmas,” comments. When I was little, I said she didn’t know, but she told me Santa had left a note  so she knew. I believed her. When I was older, she was relentless, and I’d always ask for hints. Her favorite answer was to say it was something I really wanted and didn’t have, as if that were a hint at all. I seldom gave her lists so most years I was always surprised.

My mother used to find the perfect gits for us all. They were the ones we’d have asked for if we had given the lists any thought at all. She found a Mouskeeteer lunch box for me one year, and they were my Mouskeeteers. Another year she found the first Trixie Belden and put it in my stocking. I was ten again when I saw it.

My mother always knew that Christmas was old and it was new. She gave that gift to us, and it was her best gift of all.