Most Memorable Christmas Eve

I know I promised a break... but I just couldn't help myself.

The doorbell rang on Christmas Eve.

I was home alone. My parents had gone out caroling with my baby sister in our quiet, lovely little neighborhood. They said to me "Christy, don't answer the door to people you don't know. We'll be back in a half hour." It was the Eighties and life was safer and quieter then. Bygone eras always are, you know.

I was a wildly independent five year old, and full to bursting of the idea that I was all grown-up and my parents had left me home by myself. I had snuggled myself down into the living room couch with a blanket, watching a movie and sipping the mixture of seven-up and orange juice Mommy had made for me with a straw. It's what she always made for me when I was sick. Though my one-piece footy pajamas covered me from neck to toe, I could still feel the red welts that covered my skin. They were mostly soothed by the caked-on pink Calamine lotion Mom had slathered on after an oatmeal bath, but they were definitely still noticeable.

"Don't scratch!" Mom had scolded repeatedly.
It was the dumbest thing I had ever heard. They itched! Why wouldn't I scratch them?

Marty McFly and Doc were running to the Delorean when the doorbell rang.

I looked around and remembered I was home alone.

I padded the plastic bottoms of my footie-pajamas to the front window, just beyond the television, so I could look out and see who was at the door. I was nervous. But when I saw the familiar faces of a family from my Church I was excited and ran to the door, unlocked it and threw it open.

"I have Chicken Pox!"

The visitors were amusedly stunned to see me sans parental units. "Christy, where are your parents?"

"They went Christmas Caroling. They'll be back soon."

"Well, we brought this treat over for your family." She nodded to a large, foil-covered tray, which I could only see the bottom of.

I put my arms out to take it and she smiled warmly. "Can you carry it? It's big!"

"Uh huh!"

She placed the tray in my arms. It's size humorous in the arms of a five year old. I stared down at the most beautifully delicious candy-cane shaped cinnamon roll loaf I'd ever seen. It was glazed with sugary-sweet white frosting and decorated with red sugar sprinkles, in stripes, so as to resemble the peppermint canes.

I looked up at her and mouthed "ooooooooooh!" And she looked back in delight.

I took the tray to the kitchen, and on my tippie-toes I pushed it onto the counter, then ran back to the front door, my plastic footie pajamas making a rapid "Skish-skish-skish" sound.

"Thank you!" I said to them.

"Merry Christmas!" They smiled back and I closed the door and locked the bolt.

I ran back to the kitchen and pushed a chair up to the counter so I could look at the gorgeous treat. It was so pretty! I stuck my little finger into some of the sugar glaze that was dribbled on the foil and put it into my my mouth. Yum!

I didn't mind the Chicken pox so much that night after my parents came back. I showed them the beautiful Cinnamon Roll loaf, told them who it was from and that I had put it on the counter all by myself! We nibbled on chunks of it that evening and sang Christmas songs as a little family. To this day it is the Christmas eve I remember most vividly, the first one I remember. The Christmas eve I had Chicken Pox and we were given a beautiful, candy-cane shaped Cinnamon Roll loaf.


What was your most memorable Christmas Eve like?