The night before the night before the night before....

My daughter is fascinated by the idea of "eves"...the naming of the night before the big day.  Of course, as some fascinations are wont to do, it's gone a bit too far.  Right now she is making a list of the 'eves to come in 2011'...we are up to 22 and she is only through March.  Next, she says, she will make a menu for each of the eves.   I ask her, what about the next day?  "Those days take care of themselves, Mom.  But someone has to take care of the eves..."  Interesting theory--or just another reason for her to ask for baked potatoes, mashed potatoes, blue cheese, brie, olives, salami and the rest of her "best of" menu.

In any case, I share her delight in the night(s) before, there is something to be said for the cuddly anticipation, the quiet innocence of the unknown yet to be that comes before the loudness of the 'day', whichever day it happens to be.

And of all of the eves, I, probably like thousands of others, have a special place in my heart for Christmas Eve and all of the eves that run up to it.  The nights of Bing and Rosemary, with the lights off, the candles lit, the soft lights of the tree in the corner.  Hot Chocolate to my right, a book to my left and a pile of wrapping in the middle.  The fun of shopping with the kids for each other and their Dad, always ending with hot chocolate, even when it's 75 outside.  The hopeful whispers upstairs talking through the 'what if's' of boxes that arrive daily.  These are the eves of my adulthood.

The eves of my youth are distinct with memories of serious cold, of tires crunching across snow, of signing every carol we knew while driving up the hill to Butte Falls from Medford.  The heater in the old blue station wagon making you drowsy so the singing becomes that wonderful drone in the background of your dozing--until one of your four brothers and sisters yells that you are in their seat space...and then inevitably, the magic dissapated for a bit, sometimes for good, as the night became not so silent.  In our case, the irony of multiple instances of taking the Lord's name in vain on the heels of 'Oh Come All Yee Faithful' often got lost in the ensuing melee.

Which, as it happens, is history repeating itself as upstairs, the soft silence of my eve of the eve of the eve is broken because the older brother caught wind of the "Eves of 2011" production that is occurring and is repeatedly telling his little sister that "...it doesn't work that way, you are making all of this up..." and I'm waiting for the....yup, there it is, "Mooooom!  And, ooohh... I just heard a 'dammit'....  Here is an eve memory we'll all remember for different reasons.

Luckily, the hot chocolate to my right goes well with the Peppermint Schnapps in the cupboard.