The Moon on the Breast of the New-Fallen Snow
It's Christmas Eve - actually just past one, so it's really Christmas Day already - and I can't sleep. Unfortunately, it's a miserable cough that's kept me up, not the wide-eyed anticipation that The Grandson displayed earlier this evening when he didn't want to go home and only explaining that if Santa peeked in at his bedroom window and couldn't see him in his bed, the poor fellow wouldn't know where to leave his presents, got him into his coat and boots and mittens.
At five and a half, The Grandson is having a difficult time with anticipation. His exasperated parents, tired of being awakened in the wee hours by his earnest desire to get on with the business of the coming day, purchased a digital alarm clock for his room. He has been informed that he is not welcome below stairs - especially not on Christmas morning - until the clock says 7:01. This was a good plan, as far as it went, but The Grandson and His Younger Brother discovered that they could change the numbers on the clock by pushing the buttons on top. So in the previous night's rehearsal, he appeared at his parents' bedside just after 2 a.m. to inquire whether it was 7:01 yet. His clock said 9:43, and he knew that couldn't be right. His mother promised to check the clock's settings before she tucked him in tonight, so that if he doesn't touch the buttons, he can rely on its accuracy.
I remember being unable to sleep and sitting at the window of my bedroom late on Christmas Eve. I had to be quiet, so not to wake my sister Dolly, who invariably fell into the sleep of the just the moment her head hit the pillow. On one particular Christmas, the moon was bright and full, as it is tonight. I looked out over the snowy lawn and across the street at the illuminated Nativity Scene that graced the roof of the corridor between the elementary school proper and the cafeteria and gymnasium that were housed in a converted church building. I wondered whether the Christmas Star reappeared every Christmas Eve, whether I could hear the angels singing if I listened carefully, and whether Mary and Jesus were cold with the snow piled up around them. Then, I heard a noise, slipped out of bed and peeked out the other window, the one that overlooked the backyard. In amazement, I watched Dad carry something heavy up the walk from the garage and into the back door. He must have seen the Venetian blinds in my window displaced, for in a few minutes I heard my mother in the hallway and barely managed to slip back into bed and pull the covers up before she peeked stealthily in at the door.
I lay motionless in bed for what seemed like a long, long time, pondering the significance of what I'd seen through both windows. Sleep eventually overcame reason, Christmas morning arrived in due course, and all seemed comprehensible and as it should in the light of day.
Tonight, as I look out on our quiet neighborhood, most of the houses are shrouded in darkness. In a few, though, lights are burning bright even this long after midnight. Next door to the south, they're often up very late anyway, and in any case, they have holiday company. But the house across the street is also all aglow. This is a mystery, since they are leaders in the local Jehovah's Witness congregation, and don't celebrate Christmas. All of their blinds are drawn down, except for one.
The moon was especially beautiful tonight, round and full and paired with the added attraction of a very bright planet Mars hanging just above it. After dinner, we stood on the cold porch for a few minutes to see it. Younger Brother, at two, is acquiring the ability to communicate. "Moon," he said, pointing. A little later, The Grandson and his father took the binoculars out to take a closer look. They're still sitting on the kitchen counter. I wonder. . . .
No. It's time to take my next dose of cough medicine and trundle myself back to my bed. Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!
In the morning, I will be interested to hear whether The Grandson managed to contain himself until the clock said 7:01. I can hardly wait to hear the tale.
Addendum: Older Daughter and her husband were up by 6:30 this morning and waited with bated breath for their sons to stir. Finally, around 7:30, they heard Younger Brother's cheery voice calling over the baby monitor, and Older Daughter went up to their room. And discovered The Grandson, wide awake, lying on his bed, happily staring at the ceiling and daydreaming.
At five and a half, The Grandson is having a difficult time with anticipation. His exasperated parents, tired of being awakened in the wee hours by his earnest desire to get on with the business of the coming day, purchased a digital alarm clock for his room. He has been informed that he is not welcome below stairs - especially not on Christmas morning - until the clock says 7:01. This was a good plan, as far as it went, but The Grandson and His Younger Brother discovered that they could change the numbers on the clock by pushing the buttons on top. So in the previous night's rehearsal, he appeared at his parents' bedside just after 2 a.m. to inquire whether it was 7:01 yet. His clock said 9:43, and he knew that couldn't be right. His mother promised to check the clock's settings before she tucked him in tonight, so that if he doesn't touch the buttons, he can rely on its accuracy.
I remember being unable to sleep and sitting at the window of my bedroom late on Christmas Eve. I had to be quiet, so not to wake my sister Dolly, who invariably fell into the sleep of the just the moment her head hit the pillow. On one particular Christmas, the moon was bright and full, as it is tonight. I looked out over the snowy lawn and across the street at the illuminated Nativity Scene that graced the roof of the corridor between the elementary school proper and the cafeteria and gymnasium that were housed in a converted church building. I wondered whether the Christmas Star reappeared every Christmas Eve, whether I could hear the angels singing if I listened carefully, and whether Mary and Jesus were cold with the snow piled up around them. Then, I heard a noise, slipped out of bed and peeked out the other window, the one that overlooked the backyard. In amazement, I watched Dad carry something heavy up the walk from the garage and into the back door. He must have seen the Venetian blinds in my window displaced, for in a few minutes I heard my mother in the hallway and barely managed to slip back into bed and pull the covers up before she peeked stealthily in at the door.
I lay motionless in bed for what seemed like a long, long time, pondering the significance of what I'd seen through both windows. Sleep eventually overcame reason, Christmas morning arrived in due course, and all seemed comprehensible and as it should in the light of day.
Tonight, as I look out on our quiet neighborhood, most of the houses are shrouded in darkness. In a few, though, lights are burning bright even this long after midnight. Next door to the south, they're often up very late anyway, and in any case, they have holiday company. But the house across the street is also all aglow. This is a mystery, since they are leaders in the local Jehovah's Witness congregation, and don't celebrate Christmas. All of their blinds are drawn down, except for one.
The moon was especially beautiful tonight, round and full and paired with the added attraction of a very bright planet Mars hanging just above it. After dinner, we stood on the cold porch for a few minutes to see it. Younger Brother, at two, is acquiring the ability to communicate. "Moon," he said, pointing. A little later, The Grandson and his father took the binoculars out to take a closer look. They're still sitting on the kitchen counter. I wonder. . . .
No. It's time to take my next dose of cough medicine and trundle myself back to my bed. Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!
In the morning, I will be interested to hear whether The Grandson managed to contain himself until the clock said 7:01. I can hardly wait to hear the tale.
Addendum: Older Daughter and her husband were up by 6:30 this morning and waited with bated breath for their sons to stir. Finally, around 7:30, they heard Younger Brother's cheery voice calling over the baby monitor, and Older Daughter went up to their room. And discovered The Grandson, wide awake, lying on his bed, happily staring at the ceiling and daydreaming.
posted by MLEH | 12:59 AM
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