It is the week before Christmas and there isn’t a snowflake in sight. We haven’t had a snowy Christmas for a good long time. I am left to reminisce about cool white flakes and snow angels on the ground.
I remember one Christmas, my brother (age four) and I (age 8) begged our parents to let us sleep in their bedroom. Their bedroom faced the Fromm of the house and had tall windows that stretched all the way across the front wall. The porch roof just outside their window provided the perfect landing pad for a sleigh and eight reindeer. My parents slept in my bedroom with its double bed and window that faced out over the backyard. There was no where for Santa to land out back.
The window I. our parents room gave us a wide view of the night sky, past the roof stops of the Philadelphia row houses that surrounded us.
It was one of the few Christmas with deep snow. The moonlight glistened just like in the song. The air was crisp and clear. The sky was deep inky blue and full of twinkling stars. When I was a kid nights were darker in our part of the city. There were fewer street lights and people turned off all their electric lights at night. There were less lights on along the business corridor.
In the quiet night filled with snow, stars and anticipation my brother and I dosed off, between giggling and telling stories. But at some point during the night, we saw Santa. He was just leaving the roof and his sleigh has taken flight. We saw the side of his face and his fluffy white beard.
We ran into my bedroom, where our parents were sleeping and woke them up, telling them we saw Santa and the gifts were surely downstairs. They were. This is the Christmas that stands out most in my memory. The snow, Santa and sharing a wonderful memory with my brother.
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