It’s Christmas time and the time for the family to gather for an overnighter. Where do I begin?
Let’s start with the food and wine. My husband does an amazing job of getting it all on the table at the same time and not burnt or cold. We have so much food that I use the garage as my temporary refrigerator.
I have the dishes, the bowls, the stemware, the real silverware, the cloth napkins, the tablecloth, the centerpiece and the candles. There is nothing like a table glowing with long tapered candles in brass candlesticks. Every woman looks gorgeous in candlelight.
Now onto the sleeping arrangements. The only things I like that are blown up at this time of the year are the air beds. It’s like Airbnb here. This house has enough down comforters to instill fear into Scandinavian geese. And pillows. I’m of the mindset that there are never enough.
Of course, the only natural place to store the presents from Santa is in our bedroom. Since I’ve been given enough warning that presents actually need to be wrapped, you would have thought I’d have this all done already, but no. Christmas Eve we’re up at 3:30 a.m. wrapping and looking for that extra package of tape that I know I have somewhere. Oh, the wrapping paper I have from COSTCO? Two generations from now they’ll still use it.
Surprisingly, the most fun activity might be emptying the Christmas stockings, many of which were hand needlepointed by my mother. Years ago, my husband started the tradition of putting a Christmas stocking at the foot of our daughter’s bed so that when she woke up, she’d have something to keep her occupied until she couldn’t take it any longer and came to wake us up. Inside the stocking there is always a quarter (for good fortune) and a tangerine (for good health). The adults’ and children’s stockings, which are hung from the staircase, are now probably as anticipated as the actual presents under the tree.
On Christmas Eve, stories are being told, drinks are being drunk, snacks eaten and in the background there is the now time-honored tradition of watching A Christmas Story. Yes, the one with the leg lamp and the kid who gets his tongue stuck on the metal pole. How this became a tradition is a vague memory, but it’s now on a continuous loop. Ah, for the days of the yuletide log playing in the background with CDs of Frosty the Snowman or the King’s College Choir, Cambridge—this house can go either way.
However, there is one tradition that is privileged in our home and that is going to Midnight Mass. My husband started this many years ago and it’s a special time he has with our daughter that is going to be precious. Meanwhile, I’m still wrapping presents, and looking for the extra tape.
So, as everyone is coming up the walkway and looking at the twig trees all lit up in white lights and the fence draped in a swag of lights that blink softly to a rhythm, I hope that their memories will be as warm as the fireplace in the living room. From our home to yours, Merry Christmas.
-M.E. Orchard
