Today was always the best day of the year when I was a kid. It was filled with anticipation. The minutes passed slowly. We stayed around the house. I remember watching A Christmas Carol and in the late afternoon Santa from New Hampshire said his good-byes. He walked away with his bag over his shoulder. Dinner on Christmas Eve was never a formal affair. We wouldn’t have been able to sit at the table for long had it been; instead, we had sandwiches followed by Christmas cookies. I always liked the Santa cookie.
In the early evening, we got to open one present, the pajamas and new slippers. The slippers were always wool slipper socks with leather soles. I even have a pair now. They are a bit ratty. I had to mend holes using yarn, but the slippers still serve their purpose. The pajamas were jersey with cuffs at the wrists and ankles. They were warm.
Because the darkness came early, it seemed right to argue for a bedtime sooner than usual. I figured time would pass quickly if I were asleep and not clock watching. My mother always said no. She knew how difficult it always is to fall asleep Christmas Eve.
We entertained ourselves by watching TV, and I sometimes read. When I was deep into a book, I never noticed the time passing.
The ritual before bed was to hang our stockings. They were placed oldest to youngest on the stair rail. We had been guaranteed that Santa didn’t need a chimney.
I swear the Christmas tree look brighter and the lights in the windows shined further on Christmas Eve. It is a magical night, a night for believers.
