I can remember being about 5 or 6 years old, the night before Christmas, and wanting to get to bed as early as possible figuring that the sooner I fell asleep the sooner it wold be Christmas morning. Of course the problem is that all of the excitement of what the next day might bring made it nearly impossible to fall asleep, so I'd toss and turn with a big grin on my face thinking about what might be waiting for me under the beautiful-colored paper the next day. When I'd finally fall asleep, my dreams would be wraught with visions not of Sugar Plum Faries, but of the day ahead as I would envison it.
And then of course, because I had gone to bed too early, I would wake up before dawn the next morning, knowing that I had a few hours before it was reasonable to wake up the parents and get the day started, and the anticipation of knowing that today was the day would be almost unbearable. The suspense, time spent picturing myself ripping the wrapping off of my presents - the presents that were carefully and oh so beautifully wrapped just for me - imagining what could be underneath, and wondering whether I would be getting everything I thought I was going to get (or more); the suspense was maddening.
But somehow, the suspense, the time spent day-dreaming and waiting, all served to make the day even sweeter and more memorable.
I loved Christmas as a kid. We get so few opportunities to relive that feeling as adults that when we do it's oh so important to cherish them.
Merry Christmas!
