Christmas is for children…

As hard as I try, I can’t remember much about very early childhood Christmas. I have fleeting memories from the time but they are from the distant past and form a jumble of obscure images that seldom come to the surface. However, it was always a happy time when good friends visited and the family got together. Over the years those idyllic childhood Christmas experiences and the feelings of joy and excitement have been tarnished by time. Now I watch my grandchildren at Christmas and the joy of childhood innocence and simplicity is reignited.

There are memories of a pine tree branch that Mum lovingly adorned with mostly home- made Christmas decorations. I remember how Mum struggled to balance the branch in a bucket filled with rocks; then having to tie the branch to the fireplace mantle for extra support. There was a huge star made from silver tinsel that caused the tip of the branch to droop so more string was used to keep the tip upright. We didn’t have electric lights in those early years but Mum always had plenty of candles on hand to provide light for Santa’s safe arrival. One candle was let burn after us kids went to bed and Dad reckoned it was to make sure… “the old fella doesn’t trip over the bloody cat”

A piece of Christmas cake and a glass of Mums ginger beer were left on the mantelpiece because Santa had to come a long way out to the farm and would appreciate a drink and something to eat. It was always difficult to sleep on Christmas night. A sense of excitement and anticipation of what tomorrow would bring kept us awake and I remember Mum calling out from the kitchen to advise us that if we didn’t stop talking Santa wouldn’t come. I never found out where Mum got this information from but it was false information because Santa never once failed to turn up.

We awoke very early Christmas morning and lay in bed waiting for first light to break the darkness. It signalled the start of Christmas Day. When it was light enough to see the door we got up and crept out to the lounge room.  Clad in our pyjamas we peered into the gloom at our Christmas tree and the gifts that lay beneath it. Santa had been to our house. He had left us just what we had asked for. He had eaten the cake and drank the ginger beer. He had even managed not to trip over the cat.

Christmas is a truly magical time for children. What is your favourite childhood Christmas memory?