I remember the excitement of Christmas as a child, peaking through my bedroom curtains to see if it was snowing yet, placing water outside waiting for it to freeze, thus telling of the inevitable snowfall. The smell of the tree of course was the best of all, when it was dark out the tree would sparkle as if lit by fairy wings, dancing with tinsel and fragile glittery bulbs that would shatter into a million pieces if dropped, we’d lose one or two every year no matter how careful we were, they were just so delicate.
Best of all were the gifts! Coming from such a large family, my immediate family alone would fill the under branches of the tree with so many gifts that it became almost impossible to water the poor green giant, all dressed up but with no place to go, one would have to create a path among the presents or lose our precious new family member to drought.
Nothing more exciting however then the night before Christmas, the hush of tired little elves and the rustle of last minute wrapping, it’s magic in the air, floating around each of us, radiating and multiplying into a tizzy of rambunctious joy!
My siblings and I would dream of snow, we’d cut out little paper snow flakes and tape them to the very large kitchen windows, this was tradition to give thanks to the snow for joining us in the past and willing it to return once again.
In those days we had several white Christmas mornings greet us, in our eyes snow would bring all the mystical creatures of the holiday to our home and it never quiet felt as special on years when the snow stayed away.
Even with the likely argument between either mum and dad or one of us kids getting into some silly quarrel Christmas was always the best part of the year, to this day I believe in the magic that surrounds us during the holiday season, hearts are warmer, hands open, smiles frequent. Though it’s not so much about the wading through knee deep discarded wrapping paper that I long for anymore, but the wholesome belly filled love sensation that is everywhere. The air still tingles and the Christmas tree still homes a dozen fairies, wings all a flutter.
…And perhaps maybe, just maybe if we are really still and press our noses to the cold glass of our windows, maybe we’ll by chance catch sight of the first snow flake as it falls.