As I write, it's early on Christmas Eve morning. Everyone else is still asleep. The house is quiet. The radio is humming in the kitchen, and the washing machine is swooshing and swishing the last couple of washes until after Christmas. The tree is glowing beside me, the familiar, treasured decorations gleaming here and there as the reflection of the fairy lights catch the faceted surfaces.
The Christmas cake sits in the kitchen, fatly important in its coat of marzipan, waiting to be iced and decorated later this morning. The gingerbread houses and hearts I baked the other day await icing, they are intended as place-markers on the Christmas table, I am so looking forward to sitting at the kitchen table later to decorate each one with a name; Gran; John, Jonathan, Derek, Penny, Jacob, Isaac. Our dear family Christmas, so precious, so familiar, so much pleasure in preparing for this day of celebration. Not so much a Christian celebration in our house, as none of us are overtly religious, but a celebration of being together as a family, being thankful for and appreciative of our health, our happiness, our peaceful home, our darling boys, my dear wee mum, my darling brother.
My favourite moment on Christmas Eve is when we return from the carol service at our local church, and close the front door. The preparations are complete. The fridge and cupboards are full, the gifts are wrapped, the house is fresh and tidy, the candles are lit. Our Christmas Eve tradition is to have a supper of party food and watch 'Elf' before hanging up stockings for Santa to fill. Very unsophisticated, very simple, and 'very fun' as Isaac used to say when he was small. I hope your Christmas is 'very fun' too. Happy Christmas.