Christmas morning.

Good morning!


I think someone has been here...

Merry Christmas.


(I can still hear her voice.  She had the nicest way of waking someone up.)


Mom never got out of bed before us on Christmas day...

(Or so our innocent hearts and minds believed.)

She would wait for us to come to her bed.

Often she had to wake us up.


One of us would go get the other.

It was an unspoken rule.

Hand in hand we would go find our stockings.

Mom would lie in bed listening to our excited exchanges.


We would run to their room.

We would jump,

Squeal and giggle.


We would show them what Santa had left for us.

Her reaction of surprise and excitement would match ours.

She would ask us if she should start making breakfast.


She would stretch and slowly, so slowly, get out bed!


Tradition spoke...

Breakfast must be eaten BEFORE presents were opened!

She would tease us terribly. 


Christmas morning breakfast was always a big spread.

Eggs were prepared in many different ways.

Two types of breakfast meats,

Pancakes and French toast,

Fruits and juices

Pastries and toast

Jam, honey and syrups...

It was delicious. 


We would eat and eat.

All of us in grand holiday spirit. 

As we became full, we remembered all the presents.


Can we open presents now?


They would insist on one more cup of coffee...


We would protest happily.

It was all part of the fun.


Eventually, we would be surrounded by paper.

Presents opened,

Gratitude’s given,

Dreams fulfilled.


It was our family Christmas tradition. 



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