My sister Lindy and I have never relinquished the child-like exhilaration
of Christmas morning. Admittedly the
hysterics we contrived as children to the lead-up to Christmas have waned over
the years and the memories of them are now more than a bit hazy, but we still
recall the signal initiation to Christmas morning: “It’s Christmas!”
Even though it has been a very long time since my sister and I lived under
the same roof we both vividly recall the routine of Christmas morning which we
enacted when we were less than ten years of age. After we were put to bed on Christmas Eve, try
as we might to remain awake long enough to hear Santa’s reindeer on the roof we
eventually fell asleep and thus missed the opportunity yet another year. Usually no later than four o’clock in the
morning either of us awoke and crept into the room of the other to whisper the
inspirational words “It’s Christmas!” The gears of activity were in an instant
set in motion. Clad in our fleece
pyjamas and fluffy slippers we crept down the wooden staircase with
anticipation to the living room where in the dark we could barely perceive that
indeed Santa had come and gone! The first ceremonial act was to plug in
the Christmas tree lights which illuminated the room in sparkling colours and
showed to advantage the gift-wrapped packages and toys strewn about the base of
the tree. Our parents had the courtesy
to leave us alone long enough to condition ourselves to Santa’s bounty, time to
scrutinize and play with the toys and contraptions which had been so carefully
chosen for our entertainment and distraction.
Lindy and I in an unusual act of condescension were polite enough to
share with one another our newly acquired intelligence about our respective
gifts. I can never recall being
disappointed with anything which had been given me though I recollect in
particular a wind-up German sports car which diverted me for hours, speeding it
around the kitchen floor.
Afterwards our mother initiated her own especial breakfast, a ritual
which in later years included Champagne and freshly squeezed orange juice, filet
mignon, rich scrambled eggs, buttered croissants and home-made strawberry jam
all served in the formal dining room on the finest porcelain with sterling
silver flatware, lace linen and crystal stemware. This episode was skilfully managed to
interrupt the opening of gifts, calculated to protract the delight to which we
subsequently returned with renewed vitality.
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