| Christmas Eve arrives at my house each
year. The center of the celebration is dinner. My mother spends days preparing a
rich variety of seafood. The guest list seldom changes. It is made up of my
aunt, Marcy and her husband, my oldest brother, Sal, his wife, and their four
children, my sister, Joann, her husband, and their two children, and my second
brother, Richard, his wife, and their two children. My aunt and uncle always come heavily loaded with enough food and wine for a whole army. My brother Sal and the {{U}}gang{{/U}} usually show up an hour early and empty-handed. Joann's family is usually late while Richard's group generally arrives on time, bearing gifts for everyone. I am in charge of getting the Christmas tree. Plenty of food is served at the dinner table, and all the hours of preparation are wolfed down in a matter of minutes. Along with the yearly repeated menu comes the yearly repeated conversation. Everyone talks about how good the food tastes. My mother then talks about all the supermarkets from which the fish was bought. This begins our period of comparison shopping. For at least 30 minutes, we show how better we are than each other at mentioning the bargains we have found. Personally, I do not feel the need to be with a crowd on Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve, to me, is a quiet time, a time to think deeply. The over-crowdedness and noise ruin my feelings about Christmas. |