Memory awakes from its slumber as I ponder Christmas Eves past . . .
My final peek at the tree at the bottom of the stairs
Before I made a weary climb to blessed rest.
It’s missing this Christmas Eve
With no small children underfoot
Bursting with anticipation
Wondering what they’d find beneath that tree
After their busy morning feet raced downstairs.
Wistful, longing, wanting what’s not here.
In doing so, I forget that
I create anticipation.
I can make my own this quiet Christmas Eve.
Bread baking later today
Its scent wafting from the kitchen and through the house.
Waking tomorrow morning, knowing my family is safe.
Telephone calls, merry laughs.
Sharing food and baby laughter later in the day.
What can I create to bring the joy of
Anticipation to this Christmas Eve
And every eve?