christmas – Despite Reality

It’s Christmas morning. Val, Josh, and I are at the top of the stairs, waiting for the okay from Mom and Dad to come down and feast our eyes on all those glorious presents.

“Can we come down yet?” Val is the one to ask. The middle child, but in many ways the leader of our trio. She doesn’t think of herself that way; she is just always the one to want to clear things up, set the record straight, or be the mediator of any conflict. I often refer to her as Josh’s attorney/interpreter because she will jump in on his behalf in any argument, major or minor.

“Not yet,” Mom replies from the kitchen. “I’m making coffee, and Dad is getting the video camera ready.”

The suspense is almost too much to bear. We’ve waited so long for Christmas to arrive. This is the final obstacle to overcome before getting our hands on those gifts! As frustrating as it may be to three young kids, it’s a moment that is magical in its own way. It stretches things out just a little longer, letting the excitement build that much more.

Josh, the youngest and most adventurous, sneaks down a few steps and peeks around the corner. He needs confirmation that there really are presents down there. “He came!” he whispers excitedly as he hurries back up the stairs. “Santa came!”

It plays out this way year after year, becoming a sort of tradition of its own.

Years later, when I am a teenager, I stay in bed, refusing to emerge from my room until we get the green light from Mom and Dad to come downstairs. Val and Josh are appalled. The drawn-out moments of anticipation at the top of the stairs are part of Christmas morning. How could I possibly sleep through them? What they don’t know is that I am wide awake, trying to play it cool. I can’t make it seem like I’m too eager. Me trying to “sleep in” on Christmas morning becomes a new layer to the bit.

Now, as adults, long since having moved out and living in our own homes with families and traditions of our own, my siblings and I still text each other on Christmas Eve:

“See you at the top of the stairs.”

It’s Christmas Eve and I am five years old. I am at Mema and Pepa’s house for a big Christmas Eve party. Packed into the small sunroom at the back of the house are Aunt Karen and Cousin Nick, Aunt Jeneane and Uncle George, Aunt Chris, Great Aunt Marian, and of course Mema and Pepa, my parents, and my baby sister Valerie. The picture windows reveal fresh-falling snow against the nighttime sky while the wood burning stove keeps the room all toasty and warm.

Presents are being handed to us kids faster than we can open them. Mom asks me who that Thundercat action figure is from, trying to formulate a thank-you card list in her head. It’s too late, Mom, that was three presents ago and I don’t even remember who gave me the one I am opening right now.

Christmas music plays softly in the background, just beneath the sound of ripping wrapping paper, the click-clack-flash of cameras, the clinking of glasses, and of course the sounds of laughter. I swear I just heard a “Ho Ho Ho!” from the other room. I think it was Pepa, but it honestly wouldn’t surprise me if Santa himself couldn’t resist making a brief cameo at this shindig.

The food that is laid out on the dining room table looks like it could feed a group ten times this size. Turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, salad, biscuits, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce. Of course I’m too picky to appreciate half of it at age five, but even I can’t deny that the aroma in the air is enough to make your stomach growl.

Nick and I stage an epic fight between my Silverhawks and his Ninja Turtles, ducking behind piles of presents that form the battlefield. The floor is covered with cookies, Muscle Men, Ghostbuster Cereal, Pee-Wee colorforms, and trucks that go wheelies. We play and giggle until we are exhausted.

Finally the time comes to trek back out into the snow and pile into the car. It’s freezing cold in the back seat and my mom wraps a blanket around me. As we drive home I look at my little sister asleep in her carseat. I look out the window at the snow, still falling so gently down from the pitch-black sky. I stare in wonder at each house that is lit up with Christmas lights as my eyelids start to get heavy. I think about the fact that tomorrow morning is Christmas, and there will be even more presents and fun to be had.

I drift off to sleep in the back seat feeling warm, safe, and content. That feeling is what Christmas Eve is to me.

Tag: christmas

The Top of the Stairs

Christmas Eve at Mema’s