The first Christmas Eve that I ever truly participated in was when I was 17 years old. My family celebrated on Christmas morning, and I honestly do not have Christmas Eve memories before the one mentioned. So, as I was saying, my first memorable Christmas Eve was when I was 17, and I had been invited to my boyfriend's house. It seems they opened their gifts at night — which I thought was totally strange, but hey, it was his family, not mine. Wrong. Fast forward 2 Christmases, and guess who was married to the boyfriend?
That first Christmas Eve, though, will always be special to me. When I arrived that evening, their house was all decorated. It was done up a little differently than mine. My family basically put up a tree and called it done. His, however--did a little more. They had lights on the outside of the house, a wreath on the front door, and an artificial tree in the front window with some very old-style ornaments--they had these little spinners that were really kind of fun. On the sideboard in the living room, they had the 3 wise men made from syrup bottles — I'm not making this up; they were a gift to my boyfriend's mother from one of her church friends. In the family room hung a bell that had a little pull chain; when pulled, it played a Christmas song. There was also a nativity on the mantel and a fire going in the fireplace. My folks never built fires; my dad didn't want the inside of the fireplace to get dirty — again, I'm not making this up.
To begin our festivities that evening at the boyfriend's house, we started out with food--lots of food. Their Christmas Eve began with a huge buffet of all types of hors d'oeuvres. There was everything from sliced meats and cheeses, to chicken wings and little sausages, to salads and cookies. If you could imagine any little snack food, it was probably on that table. We grazed for about an hour until the excitement of opening gifts got the better of us.
We all filed into the living room, and there, underneath the tree, were lots of gifts. We were a rather small bunch — there were my boyfriend's grandmother, his mom and dad, his sister, and us, just 6. One by one, the presents were handed out, but mine was saved for last. All eyes were on me as my boyfriend handed me my gift — a cute, medium-sized brown teddy bear — and I loved it. What I didn't happen to see, though, was the ring sewn to the little paw of the bear. Finally, he waved that little bear paw practically in my face, and then I saw it. It was a beautiful little ring that said "Love" on it, with a little diamond in the "O". I could feel my eyes tear up. It was the best gift ever. That was a magical night for me, one filled with sweet memories and a declaration of love.
Those Christmas Eves spanned almost 3 decades. Every year, no matter where we lived, we'd make the drive to Grandma and Grandpa's house. We'd pull up with our 3 children, and there was their house with lights on the outside and a wreath on the front door. We'd eat our little munchies and open gifts in front of the same artificial Christmas tree, with the same little spinner ornaments. Our kids would take turns pulling the chain on the musical bell, and we'd all have a wonderful time.
My in-laws have now passed away. We no longer have those Christmas Eve gatherings — things have changed. Now that our family is spread out across the country, we struggle to find time to get together for Christmas. Sometimes everyone comes to our house, and sometimes we go to theirs. It's different every year. And has been for the last few years. I don't mind it so much. Ok, really I do. But I am dealing with it.
Those 3 decades with my in-laws, though — those Christmas Eves with them — well, I am so very thankful for those memories. They represent a stable time in my life. A happiness that can only be attributed to them. I miss those wonderful Christmas Eves. I wonder if I ever even thanked them.
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