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CHRISTMAS EVE
1964
Christmas Eve,
1964, was our “Silent Night, Holy Night.” Something to this day I still try
to capture and relive, but never quite seem to reach. The snow, the smells,
the innocence, the spirit…all seem to escape my grasp.
The full moon
shines down on the fresh, blue, powder snow. Twinkling “diamonds” sparkle
in my eyes, causing momentary blindness as I walk toward the tiny cabin
nestled amongst the trees. The voices of the Vienna Boys Choir singing
“Panis Angelicus” waft through the otherwise silent night, sending shivers
up and down my spine.
“Hurry up Maggie.
We’re getting cold!” my five-year old brother, Chris shouts, breaking the
mood. I am pulling Chris and my three-year old brother, Adam, behind me on
a toboggan. I am warm under my parka, almost sweaty with the exertion of
pulling my brothers up the steep incline to the quaint cottage of the
Austrian couple that has invited our whole family, nine of us, over for a
Christmas Eve get together.
I turn around and
catch a glimpse of the moon reflecting on the smooth, glass-like surface of
the lake before once again continuing to pull the toboggan up the hill. As
we approach, the pixie-like couple greets us with hot cocoa, welcoming us
into their warm and cozy abode.
Everywhere I look
there are candles burning. Sitting down by the fireplace, I watch the
flames dance, turning from yellow, to orange, to red, to blue, and hear the
hiss and pop of wet wood. Occasional sparks jump out, swirling like
fireflies before extinguishing themselves, some burning tiny black spots in
the round braided rug in front of the hearth. Becoming drowsy, I start to
daydream, conjuring up Visions of Sugarplums to dance around in my
head. A fleeting taste of ribbon candy, gumdrops, and candy canes tempts my
tongue.
All too soon, my
parents inform us it is time to go. We gather up our coats, hats, scarves,
and boots and begin the short trek back to our cabin. I say short because
as I pull and turn the toboggan, loaded with my two brothers, down the hill,
the toboggan picks up speed, knocks me off my feet, and lands me on top of
my brothers. We whiz past the rest of our family, screaming at the top of
our lungs. We come to rest in a large snowdrift, our hearts beating like
rabbits, shaken but unharmed.
After we finally
calm down, we make our way back to our own cabin on the lake. We hurry to
bed, trying desperately to fall asleep quickly, to dream our Christmas
visions and await a visit from Santa Claus. In the morning it will be
chaos, but for now, all is calm and quiet.
Rebecca Craddock
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