Every Christmas Eve when I was a little girl, I sat on my mom’s lap and we read The Night Before Christmas out loud while my dad took pictures of us and the tree and the cats. Many years, Mom and I did it straight from memory – except for the whole “dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly” part. We could never remember that verse.
One year, right about when I started questioning the whole “Santa” thing, I woke up around 2AM to the sound of bells jingling just outside my bedroom door. I was too excited to even move, and so I just tucked the blankets up around my ears and listened. Eventually I fell back asleep, secure in the knowledge that Santa was real, and that he had been in my house that very night.
And then, in the morning, I found a reindeer bell sitting next to the tree. That’s it, up there. You can tell it came straight from Santa’s sleigh because it’s so very, very old.
But now I’m a grown woman, and so Christmas Eves are about building new traditions with the family I’ve started all on my own. This year, it’s about a picnic dinner on the floor with Engagement Chicken and champagne, and a toast to what has been nothing less than the best year of our lives.
The best year of my life.
I mean that.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas.
Listen for those reindeer bells.