Christmas Joy
Strands of decorative lights shone softly from the tree
casting a romantic glow across the room. An old vinyl copy of White Christmas played quietly. The presents were wrapped and placed strategically throughout the room ready for the big morning. Seven stockings hung from the mantle laden with goodies, one for each member of the family, pets too. All that was left was for Betsy and jolly ole me was to finish off a glass of cabernet sauvignon and head to our big warm bed. “Dinner was superb babe” I said turning to kiss my wife on the head. However, before I could make the connection I heard an odd creak and saw a flash of light from the corner of my eye. What happened next was a mixture of involuntary reaction and futile attempt at saving the day. Betsy leapt forward to grab the tree as it fell, I pulled back to miss getting hit, we crashed into one another as both glasses of wine tumbled from our grasp onto the couch. We both ended up under the toppled tree. For a second it seemed as if time stopped. Slowly sound began to creep back in. I could hear Betsy giggling, the record still played soft and low, our dog was panting on the other side of our pine prison. I must admit an expletive escaped my lips when I visualized the mess we had on our hands. “Dang Dog!” I blurted out “I bet that mutt did this trying to drink water from the stand.” I attempted to get up, causing fragile ornaments to clang together loudly. “Honey” Betsy replied still giggling, “hush or you’ll wake the kids!” I fumed “wake the kids! You have to be kidding me!”
36 www.blufftonbreeze.com
Written by Gene Cashman III
Sure enough, a wee small voice could be heard at the top of the steps. “Mommy” the voice called out softly. There was a long pause and then quickly “daddy?” We both held our breath. “Santa” the voice called out much louder and more enthused “is that you?” I turned to Betsy, we locked eyes and communicated in ways only couples with young kids can. We sprung into action. I bear hugged the tree and rolled it off Betsy who leapt over the edge of the couch and sprinted up the stairs. I was alone with the soft music, the mangled but still romantic lighting, two arm full’s of sappy limbs and the dog. The dog knew I was ticked. She stared at me, tail between the legs. I propped up the tree against the wall and begin sopping up the wine. Upstairs, it seems things were not settling down. I could hear several sets of footsteps scurrying about,Written excited by voices chirped and lights flipped on and off. I decided to stop cleaning and assist in calming thingsCashman down. By the time I arrived at the top of the stairs and into the children’s room all the kids were piled up in my son’s single bed, Betsy in the middle, reading The Night Before Christmas. Soft lamplight shown on their cherubic faces. My heart became more tender and my mood less stressed. “Ahh” my heart sighed “what gift’s!” A creak of the floor gave my presence away. “Daddy, Daddy” they exclaimed excitedly “we thought we heard Santa, it woke us up!” I smiled and plopped down on the end of the bed. Betsy winked and started to read again only to be quickly interrupted by our son. “Daddy” he said sternly “don’t turn on the alarm tonight. I don’t want Santa to get taken to jail.” We all had a good laugh “no problem son.” Restless and excited children take time to unwind on a random Tuesday much less Christmas Eve. We repeated our prayers, giggled some more, read a lot more, and sang every soothing Christmas song ever written. Finally the wave of emotion broke. With one final story and one last rendition of Away in a Manger sleepy eyes were fully restored. Peeling the children off us was a task but we managed and slowly crawled our way out of the room. “Mommy, daddy” our daughter called out. We froze thinking things were about to start back up, but instead she whispered, “Merry Christmas, I love you.” It was now very late. It had been a full day and now and even fuller evening. We came down the steps heavy footed knowing what was waiting in the den. The tree was propped up against the couch, which was still soaked