Christmas Eve

Figgy's portrait of my Mom, called Remembrance--it was my Mother's Day gift.
She based it on a black-and-white college graduation photo. 

Figgy's self-portrait.

Back in Dumont, December 24 felt magical. We decorated the tree, had Mom's eggnog ladled from a beautiful cut-glass bowl into little matching cups, and put out our felt stockings. But one of the most exciting things was getting to open one gift before bed.

My mother wrapped gifts behind her closed bedroom door, using the bed with its nubby white spread for her work station. Occasionally, she'd call me into the inner sanctum to put my finger down on the center of the ribbon so she could tie a bow. I watched in awe as she neatly folded the edges of the paper so there were no bulges or bumps. She reserved the special papers--the shiny foils--for the best, most important gifts. If it was wrapped in foil, it was good.

Alice, you can open your present from Granny and Grandpa, she'd say. Inevitably, it was sleepwear--a pretty new nightgown--so I would have it on for the Christmas morning photos, taken when we had tumbled out of bed and headed for the living room, curlers in our hair.

Now it's Christmas Eve again. I am grateful, so grateful. The older I get, the less the presents mean and the more the real gifts mean. We arrived in Belfast at 1:07 A.M. [we left home 5:45 P.M.]. I went to yoga class right up the street at 9 A.M. with H.'s brother John and my niece Leah. I got a hot cocoa at the Belfast Co-op. I helped John Christmas-shop a little in town [he was choosing gifts for Leah], and we ran into H., shopping in the same store. I walked Sug down to the blue bay at the foot of the hilly street. I read a book, and took a nap. We went to Mass at St. Francis of Assisi, the little church we've known forever here, now part of the St. Brendan the Navigator Parish [which links Rockland, Camden, Belfast, Thomaston-North Haven and Vinalhaven-Islesboro]. John made roast chicken, potatoes and carrots for dinner. We went to Mike and Therese's for hot chestnuts, mugs of tea and cookies. And since we've gone to Mass already, now our morning can be relaxed.

I remembered my baby girl here on Christmases past. Walking her down to the sparkling bay, holding her in the tiny church. H. leaving Mass once because she needed a diaper change--and he was glad to escape for a bit. Her little black velvet and taffeta holiday dresses, with big sashes in the back. A lovely ivory fleece head wrap with a bunch of flowers on it. [If it sounds odd, it was--but just slightly. I bought it at the upscale baby store in Montclair.] Look at that little angel, one woman said to us at Christmas Eve Mass when Figgy was a newborn.

Tonight, tonight. I thank you, God, heavens, sky, moon. I thank our lucky stars. I wish on a star. I see stars. I see light. The sky looks lovely. The view is beautiful.

Peaceful, merry Christmas to you.