The Magic Of Christmas

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This short story is from my book "A TIME AND PLACE The Making of an Immigrant." It is expanded and will be published as part of an e-book in the future. 


THE MAGIC OF CHRISTMAS IN THE MID 40’s

The day of December 24 started and continued like any other day. However, my sister, Dagmar, and I knew this was the big day. Our home showed no sign of Christmas, no tree, no decorations, only the smells of the special time. 

We helped Mom bake a variety of cookies. We cracked nuts and greased pans. Dagmar and I knew that sometime before the end of the day, the Christ child would come. 

Around four in the afternoon, Mom put us to bed. She told us if the Kristkindle is going to come, it would not want to be seen. It is a heavenly Being and it only took a moment to come and be gone again. The timing had to be perfect. 

So we went to bed, full of excitement and expectations. We lay perfectly still. Quiet. Whether sister went to sleep, I do not know. As for me, I was too excited to do any sleeping. I listened, dreamed and imagined, trying to put the magic in order. I was a thinking little fellow, always wondering why things worked in certain and often unexpected ways. 

Around 8 o’clock Mom woke us up. As we entered the kitchen the whole world suddenly glowed in splendor. The single light bulb, hanging from the ceiling, was turned off. In the corner stood a tall Christmas tree, shimmering, trimmed with many glistening ornaments and tinsel all lovingly placed one at a time. 

White wax candles flickered, each with its little drip bowl to catch dripping wax. The candles were clipped to the branches of the fir tree. Tinsel hung like angelic hair. It quivered and slightly swayed from the candles’ warmth. We stood close to this wonder, enthralled by its magic. The angelic hair responded to every breath. 

The glass ornaments, very fragile and sprinkled with many sparkling tiny crystals, shimmered as they reflected the magic. 

Our little family stood mesmerized in front of the tree. We held to each other as we sang Silent Night, Holy Night. After singing Mom lifted us up, one at a time, to blow out the candles. To this day I love to smell a snuffed candle’s smoke. 

Once more Mom pulled the string to the light. With the Christmas magic still in our hearts we searched under the tree for presents. The presents were mostly woolen clothes knitted by Mom. One year I also received a drafting ruler 10 cm long. In other years a set of coloring pencils and paper to draw on, a stamp collecting album. One year I got a compass set with a fountain pen. 

After opening the presents, we sat and enjoyed the wondrous evening eating cookies and drinking Glühwein. A hot mix made with cheap red wine and equal amounts of hot tea. The belly warming blend sat on the stove and simmered with orange peels, cloves, cinnamon sticks and sugar; any alcohol the wine might have had now long evaporated. The taste and smell, to this day, means Christmas. 

Just before midnight, if we didn’t go to midnight mass, we heated Weisswurst (a white sausage) in a pan of water. Dipped in sweet mustard, along with warm potato salad and buttered hard rolls . . .. Heaven came down. 

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