If Only in My Dreams...

In the vast collection of Christmas carols, there is one in particular that makes me think of my childhood, not because I used to sing it or even heard it back then, but because it makes me miss those long-gone years.

Christmas Eve is a very special night in countries like Panama for pretty much everyone.  But for a child, it is the absolute most thrilling night of all, around which, the entire year revolves. 

Even though life turned out to be rather lonely and complex for me as soon as adolescence kicked in and all throughout my years in Panama; I can honestly say that my childhood was undoubtedly delightful. 

Some of my fondest memories of those years full of wonder and imagination are of our Christmas Eve celebrations.  This was the one night of the year when I was allowed to stay up until late (contrary to the tradition in the United States, where children are ushered into bed as early as possible in anticipation of Santa Claus).  In Panama, Christmas doesn’t come until the morning of the 25th, so the night before is game for children to stay awake and enjoy the Christmas Eve feast and huge family get together. 

I remember watching “canned” Christmas specials all day long on December 24^th.  I loved those that showed Santa Claus flying away in a reindeer powered sleigh across the face of a full moon.  I absolutely loved those Christmas shows (still do), and then, at midnight, I remember sneaking a peak out the window into the dark tropical skies, hoping that would be the year I’d see the mythical sleigh.  It never happened, because, as all little children back then knew, presents are brought by Baby Jesus, not by the jolly guy in the red suit with the round belly that shakes like a bowl full of jelly. 

At any rate, as I grew up, the memories of those magical Christmas Eves remained in a very special place in my mind.  Time went by, and even though the magic dissipated as many years became tainted by the pains, hurts, disillusionments and disappointments of growing up, I still can see, if I look really hard, that little girl who used to keep the flame of fantasy alive through faith and innocence. 

Life has had it so I am not “home” for Christmas much at all anymore.  I have a new home now populated by two boys who have, somehow inherited their mother’s knack for the magical, so my place is here with them and my husband rather than at my childhood home.  But every time I hear the song “I’ll be home for Christmas,” I can’t help but feeling the old sting of bittersweet memories rushing to my mind almost as if in an old silent movie. 

I close my eyes as I sing the melancholic tunes to myself and picture the little girl I used to be.  The little girl that still lives in my memory, dressed up modestly in her Christmas best, shyly moving around the big Christmas Eve crowd that mostly ignored her, quietly dreaming of the magic of the night, and wondering about Santa Claus and his flying reindeer.  In her innocence, that little girl loved every minute of it, and she would have never missed it for the world.  In her honor I sing today that, “Christmas Eve will find me, where the love light gleams.  I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams…”