It’s Christmas Eve — I Need to Fall To Sleep

I went to bed early in anticipation of the best day ahead. All the preparations were done, all the people had gathered with one exception. That one magical person I would not see — I dare not see.

We sang Christmas Carols, assembled jigsaws, played games, and perhaps read T’was The Night Before Christmas. It was Christmas Eve, or in my mind — “I just can’t wait any longer” day.

My brothers and I had each hung up one of my dad’s work socks with our name on a piece of paper safety pinned to the top. Cookies and milk had been put out for Santa along with carrots for his reindeer. My parents had assured me several times that having a fire burning in the fireplace would not be a problem. In this season of cookies and candy, I suppose everything was possible.

I went to bed early knowing I needed to fall asleep before tomorrow could come. As hard as it was to find sleep, waking up came easily. It hardly seemed to me like any time had passed when I woke up. Curious, I moved my toes around, and I could feel a stocking at the end of my bed. Santa had come, and to my relief, I hadn’t seen him. I don’t remember what would have happened if I did see him, but in knew it would have been bad.

My room was next to my parents, so knowing my stocking was full and waiting for me, I made the first call of “can I get up now?”

The sleepy response, “no dear, its only “insert time”.

This pattern then repeated itself over the next few hours with perhaps a small hint of annoyance building from the room next door that I chose to ignore. Finally, after much patience on my part, I broke through. I was told I could get up, go see my brother’s downstairs, not go into the living room, and not wake my grandparents up. I was on the move before they finished speaking — stocking in hand.

My older brothers shared my excitement, but being 2 and 4 years older than me, they played it a little cool. After all, they had more experience than me. They had figured out the naughty and nice stuff was just a way for parents to manipulate children. I still had a sense of relief when my stocking arrived not really having a good understanding of what Santa’s good and bad behavioural standards were.

I don’t remember much about the content of those stockings. We each had an orange and a piece of candy that I made quick work of. A little car — dinky toys we called them then, and something to read. My memories are all about sitting with my brothers on a bed. No friends around — just the three of us.

Of course, the day’s excitement didn’t end there. There were more gifts under the tree. Soon enough, our Mum and Dad would get up and join us. They would share my excitement as I showed them what Santa had brought me.

They would also encourage us to be patient while we waited for our grandparents to get up. They were from a time when you wouldn’t dare present yourself without being presentable, so it took a little while. It seemed like forever. (It is funny when I think back now, as those old people were the age I am now.)

When it finally became time to enter the living room, there was a gift from Santa waiting for us. The one that comes to mind was a Tonka Fire Truck with a ladder that could extend to three times its length just by turning a handle. Then finally it was time to open the rest of the gifts from parents and grandparents. Toys, balls, super-blades, mittens and toques. I don’t remember all the details, but the excitement of the day and the memories of the people I shared them with is vivid.

The rest of the day was saved for playing, a walk along the beach, and more singing and eating. Dinner brought yet another toy and funny hat from our Christmas Crackers. The table was crowded with people, so I straddled the corner of the table next to my Mum. Sitting with the table leg between my legs became a recurring complaint from me, but I knew in reality I was in a place of honour.

I don’t remember how these days ended, but I suspect it wasn’t hard to fall asleep.

As I’ve gotten older, I may have lost a little innocence, but I have lived it through others. When my little brother was about the same age as I was in the memory above, I would have him wake me up early Christmas morning to share his excitement. It wasn’t always easy when I was 19 or 20, and had been up till the early hours, but seeing Christmas morning through his eyes was worth it. I have shared the same experiences with my three children and now one of them has a daughter of his own. I hope one day she will come and wake me up early to see what Santa has brought her.

Some of our traditions have changed, and I do think some of the excitement of Christmas morning has been lost in the instant gratification world we live in now, but what truly makes Christmas special is sharing experiences with family and friends.

To my family and friends — I miss you all, and hope your Christmas includes some magic this year.

It would also be great to hear some of your special memories.

Originally published at https://shakeitupdotonline.wpcomstaging.com on December 14, 2020.