Bits And Pieces

Ready For Christmas

     Pop has his Christmas cards all addressed and I've the gifts wrapped so we must be close to the biggest and best of holidays.  A time so beautiful and lovely even with added years I never outgrow the excitement, anticipation and the lump-in-the-throat happiness of the season.

     The hall doors and living room archways are surrounded with gay greeting cards and as new ones arrive in each mail they are Scotch taped with others on display.

     The stockings hang at the fireplace even though they fit grown up children now.  They swing empty, awaiting my Christmas Eve filling--some puzzles, candy, lipstick for daughter, comic books for son no. 2, fishing lures for the new son-in-law, a new pen for the college student and an orange at the toe of each.  Filling the stockings after all have gone to bed is a time for quiet thoughts about this last year.  A time of thankfulness that we are all together another year and a time to spin a few dreams for the future.

     There's a Christmas angel on the mantel this year.  I've nice neighbors and one guided my untalented fingers in making this gold beauty.  She's tall and stately and she lacks wings, but she stands regally between lighted candles and rests her flowing skirt on fragrant greens dotted here and there with assorted size golden balls.

     End tables hold fat candles and we probably worry the fire department with all the burning.  But candles to me emphasize the beauty of Christmas.

     The black sleigh and reindeers, which marched across the mantel for many years have been moved to a chest top.  And as always the tree is a fresh green one and fills a room corner.  Somehow I can't feel the same holiday charm with the whirling silver ones.  I suspect I'd have candles on the tree too, if I dared and the more old fashioned I can make Christmas the better.

     The tree holds the same ornaments, minus a few each year that are pulled loose by a dog's casual wandering close by.  Once our Sheba's nose has contacted with a warm light bulb she usually stays clear, but removes her share of tinsel and rearranges a few lower ornaments as she tries to step between the wrapped presents.  Somewhere in that large pile is a gift or two which bear her name, each containing a biscuit to whet her interest.  There should be a red ribbon around the dog's neck, but she'll have none of this decoration stuff.

     Christmas guest towels are up in the bathroom and there's a fat, red candle on the kitchen table.

     We like the living room dark except for the tree and candles, and there is something soothing and mysterious about soft, colored lights flickering so the room seems suddenly all red, silver, blue and green and it glistens, and sparkles and glows.

     The packages under the tree are many and exciting.  As usual the good intentions of just one gift apiece went up in candle smoke and there's much too much.  But how tantalizing to shake and squeeze and explore with pokes and punches and watch Pop's face as I try to guess the contents by sound and feel.  Why is it, I can disguise packages in a larger box or cover with paper layers; but he can guess his camouflaged bundles by a few close to the ear shakes?

     The nicest part of the entire holiday season is the last few days before Christmas.  everyone seems to be on tiptoe awaiting the big day.  A time when anticipation is at its highest.  When children have never been so good, so eager and so willing to answer any parental request.

     There's a flurry of last minute shopping.  Should we after all get son no. 1 that record player he wants?  And we must not forget a new string of tree lights.  I'm not a day before Christmas shopper; it's merely I keep adding to the present accumulation of gifts the more time there remains to buy, sacrificing the house money for weeks to come.

     The final act is the getting of groceries and the gift exchanging with neighbors and friends.  that unexplained pleasure felt when you know she really likes your shopped for purchase.

     Christmas Eve supper is traditionally oyster stew in many families.  Now is the time to join in family carol singing and then to church where carols and the Christmas message cause a sudden rush of tears to my eyes and a complete calmness of body.  I glance the length of the pew, over the heads of sons and daughter to smile at Pop at the far end.  He winks and my world is suddenly complete and happy.  Then out into the frosty dark where snow scrunches under my feet and my breath is frosty as I say "Merry Christmas" to folks I meet.

     Back home again to a last check of tree lights and a flash bulb picture of the soon to be disturbed packages.  A final shake and squeeze of a gift that is hard to predict.  No toys to be assembled and placed under the tree tonight, just stockings to fill.

     Now with my hand on the switch I turn for a last moment of savoring the sights, sounds and splendors of a room all dressed up for Christmas before turning off the lights.  "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night," I whisper.

Written December 24, 1964