Christmas Eve

It's Christmas Eve. I love Christmas Eve. It's a special time of year, and I will never quite forget that wonderful sense of magic that pervades everything when you are a child. The excitement, when you still believed in Father Christmas, as you headed off to bed, joyfully anticipating what delights the morning would bring. In some ways, I hated Christmas Eve night. I was never an insomniac, but on Christmas Eve could I get to sleep? No siree, and when I eventually did, I'd end up waking up every hour or so, thinking, it MUST be morning now, and of course if wasn't. The night seemed endlessly long.
But dawn would come eventually, and I'd wake up and realise with delight that it was now "late" enough in the morning (i.e. past six am!) for me to open the stocking which had magically appeared on my door knob. This, of course, was put there by my parents in an effort to keep us quiet and out of the way until a slightly more reasonable hour. Like, um, 7am. Which is when we were allowed to go and wake them up and show them what Father Christmas had left us. This backfired miserably though, the first year they tried it. I believe I was about 5 years old. I woke up at 3am, saw I had a stocking, and rushed in to tell Mum and Dad all about it. Not quite how they had planned it!
So once the stocking was opened, with it's little traditions like novelty soaps, and puzzle books, it would be late enough to go downstairs. We'd wrap up warmly and head down to the living room, push open the door, and discover that under the tree, the floor, which had been bare the previous evening, was now covered in presents! Oh my goodness me, the thrill of discovering that the presents were there. I can feel that anticipation again as I write this. Of course, opening them was wonderful as well, but the best thing was that initial excitement of seeing them there.
As I grew older, the anticipation of receiving presents grew less, and the joy of giving to people I loved became more. Sleep on Christmas Eve became easier, especially once I started going out to the pub in the evenings... in fact by the time I hit my late teens, it was my Father waking *me* up, standing outside the door threatening to set the cat on me unless I got out of bed and came downstairs to open the presents. But even though age brought maturity (well, supposedly!), deep inside me is left a little bit of that child who couldn't sleep on Christmas Eve, and who would practically be sick with excitement: and to be honest, I hope she never leaves!
So, Happy Christmas to everyone who is celebrating, and may there be a little bit of magic in your lives tonight.