I have always thought that Christmas Eve is the coziest day of the year.
Maybe I have to take that back. As a child it was full of angst. But my brothers and I had a system. We could look through the heater on the wall between the bedrooms area and the Christmas tree/living room area. Yep, saw the bikes one time.
Though most of the best presents didn’t come until after our bedtime.
But just before bed Dad would read us The Night Before Christmas. I loved the man in the kerchief and lady in the hat the narrator spoke of. Little did I know I would one day live where it would get cold enough to wear a hat to bed.
There was hot chocolate and candy canes. Sometimes we went to church. But mostly Dad would read the story of Mary and baby Jesus and tuck us in for the long winter’s nap. Oops. I just realized I had it backwards. It’s “With Ma in her kerchief and I in my hat.” Sorry about that.
Even when my kids were young I tried to follow the tradition. No dividing heater. Hot chocolate, fire in the window of the propane heater. Warm and full of love. The next day my folks would play Santa by bringing more gifts than my husband and I could possibly afford. I called my kids the richest poor kids around.
For us that quiet cozy night was preparing us for the loudest day possible.
So many memories. They bring the inner cozy with them.
Darswords 
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