I have come to believe I am living under a curse. First it was the fall, and I am still in the midst of the aftermath, but it is getting better, my face that is. My teeth, though, still hurt as does part of my lip on one side, and there is an ugly scab, one which draws looks or averted eyes. Yesterday’s curse was the sodden English muffin. This morning I woke up with a cold. I have decided to stay home today, walk gently and spend most of my time on the couch. That last one I do well.

Yesterday’s concert was wonderful. The audience sang along with the carols. We wore red, fun hats and fascinators. I wore my red Converse high tops. The sound effects included bells and whirrs and a drum.

On Christmas Eve, we were always allowed to open one present, but we had no choice as to which present. It was always the new pajamas. A few other wrapped presents were under the tree. They were from my parents. Santa never wrapped his gifts. He placed them around the tree in groupings, one pile for each of us. I remember going down the stairs and looking over the banister at the lit tree and all the presents around it. A new game was always upright in the front. I remember the year it was Sorry. The most amazing present was my bike, my very first new bike. It was all by itself along the picture window. It had a bow on the handlebar and a basket in front. I took that bike out on Christmas Day and rode it up and down the street. I was still in my pajamas.

I don’t remember Christmas morning breakfasts. I do remember eating some of the chocolate from my stocking. It was allowed. When I was an adult, I always went to my parent’s house for Christmas. I’d make a breakfast casserole on Christmas Eve so we could stick it in the oven in the morning. We always had mimosas Christmas morning. Even now, I usually make myself a pitcher of mimosas. It is, after all, the tradition.

Today is a busy day for me. My first concert since the mighty fall is this afternoon. I have collected everything I need: a festive red shirt, red Converse, bells and silly hats. I also have my music and my music stand. I’m ready.

I swear I am living under a cloud. This morning I toasted a lemon, blueberry muffin. I grabbed it and my coffee, went to the den, put my coffee down on the table and was about to sit when one side of the muffin slid off the plate. It landed in the coffee cup, and coffee flew all over the table. Of all places to land!

My father always put the tree in the same corner, the one between the windows where the TV usually sat. It was moved for the holiday. One year, when my parents were out, the tree fell. My brother and I rushed to save it. I grabbed the trunk, and he grabbed the base of the tree which was leaning out of the stand. We tried to get it to stand on its own, but it kept falling so we took turns holding it up until my parents came home. My father used wire around the trunk and attached the ends to the two windows. The tree stayed tall.

The tree was decorated the same way every year. First, my father put on the lights but only after he had untangled them. Next came the tinsel, strands of sparkling aluminum in silver, red or gold, strung around the tree. The ornaments followed. My mother’s favorite Christmas ornaments were giant, colored balls. We were not allowed to touch them. She always put them on the topmost branches. We decorated with the smaller balls. They were different colors and had designs on one side like a house with a star above. The ornaments were silver, gold, red and green. We made sure to place them on sturdy branches. I remember we also had a Santa drinking Coke with a hole in the top of the cardboard for hanging. That was one we put in the middle to hide a hole. We made ornaments every year so they were on the tree. One of my mine was voted the ugliest, but it went on the tree anyway. Icicles were last. My mother was patient. We were not. By that time we were tired of decorating. We tossed the icicles in bunches. She hung them one by one. She made the tree beautiful.