Christmas Eve (Susan Ault)

Excuse me, please.  But it’s Christmas Eve and I must go home -- if only for five minutes and only in my thoughts.  I have to go back on Christmas Eve.  I haven’t been there for many, many years.  Still, I have never really been away.

Every Christmas, there is a string of events that takes me home.  It starts with the Christmas decorations showing up in the stores.  Then it’s the carols on the radio while driving to work, and the putting up of the Christmas tree.

And in my mind, I snatch a few minutes to travel down I-29 once more -- down through the streets of Grafton and around the curves by Auburn.

I go in the kitchen door where our dog, Sport, has been curled up on the rug taking a long winter’s nap.  He doesn’t bark at me.  He acknowledges my presence as I pat him on the head and say hello.  I walk into the kitchen.  There I see my mom dressed in her Christmas finery, with an apron around her waist and a few pink foam curlers in her hair.  She is working at a fast pace, preparing all of our favorite dishes for our Christmas Eve meal.
 
I pass the table which is set with Mom’s fine china and crystal on my way into the den.  There I see my dad in his black recliner reading the Grand Forks Herald.  He has on his eyeglasses which he only wears when he is reading or doing “book work”.

I enter the living room where our aluminum Christmas tree is placed in the window.  I sit on the floor and watch as the multicolor revolving wheel turns the tree a different color every five seconds or so--red, blue, yellow, pink, green and so on.
 
I see my sisters as children again.  They are dressed in their velvet dresses that our mom so lovingly has sewn for each of us.  We sing Christmas carols around the piano.  Above the piano is the large mirror where all the Christmas cards are displayed on a string of plastic holly and ivy.  My sisters and I perform a play we have been rehearsing all day in one of our bedrooms.  Mom, Daddy and extended family members who have come over for Christmas Eve dinner applaud and appreciate our talents.

Eventually, we open our Christmas presents.  My dad sits with an assortment of gifts in his hands from his girls.  Mom opens her gifts that were bought by her daughters with their meager funds.  They both tell us how much they like and appreciate their gifts.  My sisters and I take our turns opening our gifts.  We play with the games and toys and go to bed later than usual.

Five minutes is all I can take.

It’s time to come back to reality.  This is here and now.  This is 2020.  My dad has been gone for 42 years.  My four sisters are all married and have children of their own and in some cases have grandchildren too.  The children at our house are long gone, but we will celebrate Christmas with them, their spouses and our grandchildren.