Sharing Love at Christmas

by Liz Kollar

It was getting late. I could hear the alarm clock ticking in Mama’s room and wished I could go in and peek at it to make sure of the time.

My parents had a room that connected to ours, one that my sister Tilly and I shared, by a door that was always mysteriously closed during the dark of the night. Usually, we could hear their whispered voices, their laughter, and sometimes even, Mama complaining because of something that had happened during the day. Papa worked from home and being always underfoot, was the recipient of some of her complaints.

Tonight though, things were different. The house was gaily wrapped for the holiday. A fresh green balsam tree stood in front of the brick fireplace next to our stairwell, heavy oaken benches on either side of it waiting to be filled with gifts from Santa Claus. Cookie smells wafted through the house and up the stairs filling our room with the delicious aroma of anise, vanilla, cinnamon and nutmeg, and we were giddy with anticipation.

Christmas, in our house, was always celebrated at midnight and we lay in our beds impatiently waiting for Santa Claus to come. If we’d been very good he would trim our tree with glittering lights and glimmering globes of translucent glass as well as homemade cookies shaped like stars and gingerbread boys, tied to the branches with string.

Tilly and I could hear the subdued sounds of Mama’s best silver and of her Dresden plates as she set the table for our mid-night feast. We could already taste the delicious Stollen, rich with raisins, almonds and powdered sugar, the platters of sliced Black Forest Ham and the dark crusty Schwarzbrot that my Papa loved so much, especially when covered with fresh salt butter and thick slices of cheese. There would also be a generous goblet of grape wine for each of the adults, and Mama’s freshly ironed linen napkins with her initials, JHC, embroidered on them next to every plate. In the center of the lace covered table I envisioned Mama’s beautiful crystal candleholders with red tapered candles, surrounded by bits of green balsam snipped from the Christmas tree as well as a sprinkling of holly berries from our bush in the back yard.

We tried to hide our giggles and nervous laughter under our pillows so that no one would hear us and we wriggled under the covers in anticipation as we thought about the Kriskind whose birthday we were going to celebrate, and about the presents Santa Claus would bring us. Tilly and I had hung our stockings from the mantel and hoped he’d fill them with cookies and nuts, especially walnuts as they were our favorites. Maybe there would also be a juicy orange and a piece of Lebkuchen shaped like an angel or a star, covered with delicious white icing.

"Oh, Tilly," I breathed, "Do you think he’s here? I can’t wait anymore," and I shivered with excitement..

"Go to sleep," whispered my older sister, "You have to be sleeping or he’ll never come."

I closed my eyes obediently but I couldn’t sleep and I tossed back and forth on my creaky mattress until I nearly fell off the bed.

"Shhh!" she hissed. If he hears you he won’t come here, he’ll go next door, instead."

"Oh, no," I wailed, closing my eyes tightly again.

This time I must have fallen asleep because, it seemed, the next moment Mama’s hand was touching my cheek. "Come, Betty! Come Tilly!" She said smiling. "We must sing Happy Birthday to the Kriskind."

I threw my covers off, put on my slippers and grabbing my sister’s hand we tiptoed carefully together down the stairs. The moment we had been waiting for had finally come. The bare balsam tree standing in the fireplace had become a thing of beauty, as if the very stars in heaven had come down to decorate it for the Christ Child’s birthday. We stood there spellbound, our hearts beating wildly, filled with love and joy.

Papa said, "We must sing Happy Birthday to the Christ Child first and then we will see what Santa Claus brought us." And this we did, singing "Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht" which is "Silent Night, Holy Night" in English, and then "O Tannenbaum" which is "Oh, Christmas Tree." Papa had tears in his eyes as we sang and Mama hugged and kissed us.

We each had a package. Mine had three pair of panties and a book entitled "Cricket." about a little girl just like me. Tilly had the same, only her book was called "Cricket and Eunice." Eunice was Cricket’s big sister like Tilly was mine.

After everyone had opened their presents, we sat around the beautifully set table with our family, Mama, Papa, my two older brothers, my big sister Julia, Tilly and I. It was wonderful to be together on this special night. Now, of course, most of my family is in Heaven, but Tilly and I will never forget those wonderful times when we shared our love with each other on Christmas Eve.

©Liz Kollar 2003

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