The longest night, for any kid, was not the solstice. Christmas Eve was truly the longest night. We used to think going to bed early would make the night pass faster, but my mother thought after dinner was a bit too early. She was right. It was never easy, despite the time, to fall asleep. I could hardly wait for Santa to come.

My parents always went to midnight mass. When they’d get home, it was time for Santa to come so they’d collect the toys from their hiding places and put them in plies around the tree. When I was really young, my grandparents, who also went to midnight mass, would come to my house so they could watch us see our presents. That meant waking us up long before morning. We’d sort of stumble downstairs. The toys were all around the tree. I didn’t know where to look first. My gifts were in the front, in the middle. I remember one Christmas when a giant doll sitting in front caught my eye. I sat and hugged her for a while. My grandparents would leave, and we’d have to go back to bed. It was misery leaving all those wonderful toys under the tree until morning.m

My favorite Christmas Eves were when my mother and I were the only ones awake. I’d pick a present for her to open and she’d do the same for me. They were special presents, the best presents, the ones we knew each of us would love. We’d have a drink and watch a Christmas movie, but one year we watched Christmas horror, a slasher movie, dark comedy, Jack Frost, about a serial killer embodied as a snowman. We watched the whole movie. I admit we did laugh. My trees and candles are lit. I’m going to put my outside lights on all day and night, a celebration. The weather is a bit dismal, shaky, a mixture of rain and snow. The low will be in the 30’s and the high in the low 40’s. I have to go out later. I need to pick up my Christmas dinner and a few groceries. Tonight I’ll build and decorate my gingerbread house then put it up really high. I’m making progress on my jigsaw puzzle. Right now I’m watching It’s a Wonderful Life which I watch every year. It and A Christmas Carol are traditions for me. I can’t even remember how many times I’ve seen them, but that doesn’t really matter. <!– /wp:paragraph – Happy Christmas Eve!

Today is Christmas Eve Eve.

The sun is among the missing but could appear later. I see glimpses of blue. The high today will be 30° which is, I suppose, warm in comparison to the last few days. I have a concert, the last Christmas concert, this afternoon.

We have a little snow from the other day and from a dusting last night. It will never melt. I take baby steps anytime I go outside because the walk and deck are covered in ice, craggy ice which crunches underfoot.

When I was a kid, Christmas brought wonder and joy. It touched every sense. I remember walking down the stairs in the mornings and smelling the tree, the sweetness of the pine. The tree’s aroma filled all of downstairs and even gave upstairs the hint of pine.

Colored lights were everywhere breaking through the winter darkness. The more lights the greater the delight. Every car ride was a light ride. Our tree lit up the living room. The orange window lights shined on the snow when we had a white Christmas. Our living room with just the tree lights lit was awe filled.

The kitchen smelled of cookies baking. The traditional cookie was always the sugar cookie. We got to roll the dough, press in the cookie cutters and finally decorate the cookies. My mother would put a vinyl tablecloth on the table, the better to contain the mess. Bowls of white, green and red frosting were front and center on the table. Colored sprinkles were in bowls on the table. We were traditionalists. Santa wore red, the angel was white and the tree was green. I used a toothpick to dot the trees with colored lights of frosting. Every cookie was a masterpiece.

My mother had a hi-fi. Back then, some stores and companies sold Christmas records so my mother bought a few and played them on the hi-fi. One of the albums was from Grants and a couple were from Firestone. They were the soundtracks for our cookie making. I have those albums, and I have a turntable so I get to hear them again. In my car, I have been listening to Christmas carols since after Thanksgiving. Their season is so short I never tire of them.

I’d walk by the tree and run my hand up and down a branch. The needles got sharp and would sometimes prick my fingers. My hand would smell like pine. I remember Christmas cards with a felted Santa’s suit and sometimes a felted bag. I remember rubbing the cards. They often went on the tree.

I still love being surrounded by Christmas.