Mom and Dad Christmas Eve

A warm fire, briskly burns, in our fireplace surrounded by stockings you can smell the scent of cinnamon as heated apple cider, warms on the stove A large, soft bearskin rug rests, on the floor in front of the hearth the expression on it's face, not a holiday smile yet not angry enough to spoil the moment The kids have long since gone to bed, wondering, just what Santa will bring while Mother and I sit quietly together warmed by the fire and cider being sipped The lights on the tree are twinkling, in a multi - colored array of Reds, Blues and greens that seem to make the garland shimmer as it touched by a rainbow Christmas music playing softly from a CD, singers, singing of Chestnuts, Coming home White Christmas and a Jolly old fellow as Mother smiles, gently as she listens I feel her hand, slip into mine, as she looks at me with the love we have shared for three Christmas' now with the same sparkle in her eyes As the fire dies down, we see that, the time has slipped away, to early morn we decide to curl up on the bearskin and add another log to the fire Wit anticipation that the kids, would soon awaken us with the wonderment of the day, Christmas Day these thoughts as we drift off to slumber When we awaken, we find to our surprise, that the children, had awaken, come down but instead of waking us, they curled up next to us, and fell off back to sleep We wake up, long after dawn, fire died the smell of cinnamon, still clinging in the air children are awake now, presents being opened we realize, how joyful the season really is