CHRISTMAS EVE
- amandalh17a
- Oct 13, 2020
- 4 min read
Updated: Oct 19, 2020
This is a nonfiction piece I wrote about spending time with family on Christmas Eve.
John playing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," on the piano.
Cars rush to get to their families. Christmas music plays from the radio as I look out of the car window. I see Christmas lights and decorations. Passing O’Hare airport makes me think of all those who are flying in tonight to be with family tomorrow on Christmas. As we get closer to the restaurant we are meeting my cousins at, we struggle to find a parking spot. We sit in the middle of traffic and immediately are startled to hear honking behind us.
All we see in front of us are full parking spots. Luckily we find a spot and rush to get inside. I hear my sister scream in front of me and I am confused. She sees our cousins in the window. I later find out that she was screaming because she saw our cousin’s boyfriend. We had heard a lot about him, but never met him.
As we walk into the small steak restaurant we are greeted with hugs and holiday wishes of Merry Christmas. Our table noise grows louder as we talk to one another. We all haven’t been together in a year. This year we are missing my cousin Andrew who lives in Pennsylvania.
Plates are passed full of vibrant colors. The crunchy bruschetta makes me relax into my seat more and prepare myself for the main course. It transports me back to Italy, and I time travel back to July.
At dinner I am sitting in between my brother and sister. Gold and green dress. The suits and festive Christmas ties always bring a smile to my face. Every year on Christmas Eve, those ties remind me of my Grandad and Uncle Craig who passed away. They passed on their ties to my dad and cousins. I can feel their presence with us and imagine my uncle cracking jokes and making us all laugh. It reminds me of how the first Christmas Eve after my uncle passed away felt different. Now we are able to remember our loved ones who are with us in spirit.
Smiling faces and cameras flash. Photos are taken. I sit across from my cousin John. I have always looked up to him. We have a lot in common. He is the oldest of four and I am the oldest of three. I never get to see him a lot because he lives in New York. I begin to tell John about the music I started to compose. John works in theatre and music production in New York, so I always go to him for advice about music and piano. I tell him that I wrote down the lyrics and notes in my phone for the songs that I composed.
“Remind me to listen to your songs when we get back home!” he exclaimed.
Plates are empty, bellies are full. Comments are made about whose pants’ buttons will break. Thank you’s and holiday wishes are shared to those at the restaurant.
Car doors open and close. Shivering and trying to stay warm on this cold night. We drive back to my cousin’s house. On the car ride there my brother, sister and I share how we all feel like this Christmas Eve is different than all the other ones. We always go to my Dad’s side for Christmas Eve. We only see them once a year. Since we never see them a lot it usually feels a bit awkward. Today is different. That awkwardness disappears and it feels as if we are close. Doors open again.
A fresh Christmas tree smell fills my nose as I walk in. Bright lights and Christmas decorations. Desserts are eaten. Gifts are opened.
Music begins to play throughout the house as night begins to settle in. My cousin John always plays the piano every Christmas Eve. He has become an expert pianist and continues to amaze us every year with his talent. The music is soft and calms all of us standing near him. Even though we are in different parts of the house we feel as if we are all together. The music is flowing through the house. I smell the candles and Christmas tree nearby. The perfect scene is created with the Christmas tree and its lights on twinkling in front of the window. Even though the house is right next to traffic, the sound of cars is not heard.
As promised earlier in the night I have John listen to my music. I play the audio recordings quietly because he is the first person to ever hear them. I try not to feel nervous because I know how much more experience in music he has than me.
After he finishes listening he says, “Wow, that was really good! It didn’t even sound like you!”
I take his compliment and I begin to relax. Then I play him some chords I wrote. I feel as if I was right about this Christmas Eve being different than the others. Night comes closer. Hugs are shared. I smile in the car thinking of that special night.
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