Janice Collins Bailey, Christmas Morning

Until I was in the 6th grade, my brother and I slept in a double bed in an unheated bedroom over the garage.  In the winter, the insides of the windows were frequently covered with beautiful frost designs.  We slept in heavy flannel pajamas with feet in them.  We did have an electric blanket.

On Christmas morning, we got up earlier than usual.  We ran downstairs and put on our slippers that Mom always insisted we wear so we wouldn’t wear out our pajama feet and put on the brown corduroy robes she had made for us.  After a good breakfast, usually bacon, eggs, toast, and milk, we were allowed to go into the front room where we had our Christmas tree and where Mom had hung our stockings on the mantle.  Our stockings usually had an orange and apple, some chocolate and a few small toys.

Next we had to wait on Dad to load the film into the movie camera and place the dining room chairs in the proper positions for the flood lights to film our excitement.  It seemed like it took FOREVER. Only then  could we  run into the front room to see the last minute additions under the tree and start ripping open all the wrapped packages that had been under the tree for some days.

Usually, Mom had sewn both of us some new clothes to wear to my grandparents’ later in the morning.  Some of our other gifts were made by our parents and some were purchased.  When it FINALLY got started, it was always GREAT.

2 Comments
  1. Marcia Benjamin ODonnell 2 years ago

    Beautifully written, as usual !

  2. glenna park 12 months ago

    I can almost feel the cold windows and remember the story of Jack Frost! In grade school we had a great big house—6 bedrooms. In winter my parents closed off the second floor and the heat for that part of the house! We had a fire place in the living room and a big fire. The Christmas tree was full of beautiful glass birds and bulbs, lit with flickering candle lights and silver tinsel on the tree branches. Through the holiday we used to lie on the floor, near the tree and be enchanted by the spirit of the season. My mother and father played piano and clarinet and filled our home with music. I remember more about the weather, the music, the beautiful tree, than the gifts.

    Thanks for the memory, Janice. It is great to share!

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