Christmas Past

When I think about Christmas Eve I think about candles. I think about the soft mysterious sounds of O Come O Come Emmanuel echoing through a darkened church. Silent Night sung softly by the choir and warm tears slowly touching my cheeks. 

Christmas Eve for me as a child meant waiting for Santa and going to Mamo and Papo’s house to play with cousins. The smell of tamales warming in the oven mixed with the scent of the pine tree lingered in the air. All of us little ones gathered in the living room. Sitting on the floor together in our Christmas best. All of us smiling as we waited for the magic to begin. I remember singing together and listening with all our might for the jingle of those bells and the stomping feet of the reindeer to appear on Mamo’s roof. Then at last there it would be… stomp stomp stomp, jingle jingle jangle. The bells would ring and our hearts would begin beating through our chests as we waited for him to appear. 

Santa would come early to Mamo and Papo’s house and give us all a special treat and we promised to go home and go to sleep as soon as we got home. 

The house was full of love. As our family grew the house would almost seem to burst at the seams. If those walls could talk, oh the stories they would tell. Each room filled to the brim with laughter and sometimes tears. 

I remember Aunts and cousins going to the back rooms to nurse their babies and us younger ones following along to listen to their stories. 

Shifts were taken at the tables to eat the tamales that Mamo and the aunts had made. That first bite of the pillow soft tamale always made it seem like Christmas had officially begun. Papo usually occupied one seat at the dinner table for the whole evening and when it was your turn to sit it was not only your chance to eat but your chance to talk to him and listen to a story or two. “Que paso Stepania” (he called me Stepania) His smile and warm eyes focused on the persons that were seated during each round. His hard working hands visible as he rapped his nails on the wood of the table he so lovingly made. I can see his nails running along the grooves of the table, the table at which so many loving meals were shared.

Mamo was always at the stove or running between the table and the microwave as she served her family. She would call out “Mija have you eaten yet?” I feel her warm embrace and the softness of her lips as she kissed me. Her beautiful soft hands holding my face as she wished me a Merry Christmas. 

Then came time for presents….Who would be the one to hand out the gifts that year? I remember Uncle Oscar would usually do the job as his voice could carry over the crowds. It was always exciting to see who had drawn your name that year. I remember the year we made gifts instead of buying them. I remember making a leather wallet for my cousin Sammy. And my Uncle Sam made a pants rack for my Dad, which he used every single day. I think my Aunt Olga painted some figurines for my mom and although I can’t picture the gift exactly I can remember the look on my mother’s face as she opened the gift. 

That house on West Mandalay overflowed with love. Two people who loved each other and the Lord so deeply made it so. 

After my family returned home, usually around one in the morning, it was time to wrap gifts. Mom and Dad would go into their bedroom and wrap all night and my brothers and I would wrap in their room. We’d whisper and giggle and wonder what we might be opening the next morning. 

Finally, it would be time to sleep, but it was so hard to fall asleep. Waking in the morning was so exciting. I would sneak across the hall to my brothers’ room (never peaking over the balcony at the tree) and wake them up. We would watch the clock and wait until it was late enough to run downstairs to wake up mom and dad. Then we’d run into their room and jump up on their bed to wake them. 

We’d run to the tree and to our delight we would find packages with our names written on them. Mom’s handwriting was on the tags…even the ones signed Love, Santa. Even up until our last Christmas with her, some presents were always signed, Love, Santa.

The year we all got bikes for Christmas solidified my belief in Santa. I was 9 and I figured that there was no way our parents could afford 3 new bikes! The only way that these gifts were possible was if Santa himself had brought them on his sleigh. 

We’d open gifts and Dad would videotape the whole thing. Amy Grant’s A Christmas Album would be playing on the record player and Snowball, my cat would be playing under the tree, in years later she was joined by Mally. Mom would be wearing her pink winter nightgown/robe and wearing Dad's yellow slippers. I can see her smiling there beside the tree.

Dad would always surprise mom with something romantic and sweet, a nightgown or her favorite perfume. She’d smile and they would kiss. Always in love…. Mom and I always got new pjs (or nightgowns) for Christmas and after all the gifts were opened we would go to her room to try them on together while Dad would make breakfast tacos for breakfast.

The house on Oak Mist, another house full of love. 

Later in the day we would celebrate with the Sweets (Mom’s family). When I was younger we would go to Granny and Papa’s house. Granny and Papa would be waiting for us all to arrive and it was usually warm enough for all the cousins to play outside. The smell of apple cake and turkey flowed out of the kitchen. The tree, usually in the corner of the living room was decorated with ornaments from my mother’s childhood and I always loved looking at each one as I wondered what she was like at my age. The built in bar in the living room provided a place for hide and seek and always seemed so mysterious to me. 

Cousins Kristen and Lisa never seemed to get annoyed with me when I wanted to be on their laps every time they sat down. Cousin Heather and I shared our secrets in the back rooms and shared the toilet seat when we had to go to the bathroom. Cousin Jimmy could be found climbing the trees or running away from Heather and me as we tried to kiss him. 

The house on Redcliff, yet another house full of love.

Your cousins really are your first friends, aside from your siblings, and I am so blessed that I grew up with so many.

I am so thankful that I have these precious memories and that God blessed us with such a large, loving family. The sounds, smells and sights of Christmases past live on in my heart and my mind and I will treasure them always.