Christmas Eve

There was a window halfway up the stairs, facing our driveway. On Christmas Eve I’d sit by that window, waiting for my father to get home so we could decorate the tree. One year we ran out of hooks. He took me with him down to Sharlock’s hardware store, and as we walked along the sidewalk it began to snow.

It felt so special, walking through the snow with him on Christmas Eve. Christmas was about to happen, and all was right with the world.

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This entry was posted in Celebrations, festivals, memorials, My so-called-life and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Christmas Eve

  1. Don says:

    I still have some of the audio tapes Dad used to broadcast Christmas music throughout the Village from loudspeakers magically mounted somewhere up over the stores.
    And somewhere I have the long bamboo pole with Dad’s custom-made hook for putting the
    white light at the very top of the tree in front of our house.

    • celebratingtime says:

      That’s weird – I have no memory of that music, or that he was responsible! Maybe the whole radio bug started with him!

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