Christmas memories are as vivid as the lights on the tree. Each one shines as an individual point of light while together they glow majestically. Christmas Eve was an exciting time of relatives dropping by to exchange gifts and hugs, and in the ancient times of the 1960s, three giggly young sisters hung our stockings with anticipation of a restless night. I told my Mama as the commercial for Sominex aired that I needed some of that sleepy medicine, for who could possibly sleep with the scents of a real tree and chocolate fudge in the air. Time and again we were told Santa could not come until we were all asleep. Hours on end of tossing and turning and laughing and trying to listen for Santa on the roof were just too much to handle.

How could Santa come down the fireplace when we did not have one? How did he get all those toys in the house without any of us hearing him, and did he share his cookies and milk with the reindeer?

This particular Christmas Eve was the one when I decided I was much too old to believe in such, and so I kept an ear open for any suspicious noises. Sometime in the early hours of morning, I drifted off to sleep. If I dared to wake anyone up, my sister would tell Mama on me. Like that was something new.

I think it was around five in the morning, plenty of time for the big guy to have delivered his toys. I tiptoed down the hall; no creatures were stirring but me. There was a tiny light on, and I could not make out any of the toys under the tree, but I assure you I assessed the situation before I moved another step.

There, sitting on the couch as happy as could be, was Santa! He was smiling at me. I blinked and shook my head back and forth and gulped and blinked again. Yep, it was him alright. He didn't say a word. Well, I flew back down that hall so fast and jumped on my sister in the bed and told her Santa was on the couch. She informed me that she was telling Mama.

I pulled the covers over my head and stayed there until my other little sister, Cindy, flew around the corner.

"Come on! Santa came!" she squealed.

I did not move as I was still shaking in my footed pajamas. Mama was wondering what in the world had gotten into me. I heard my two sisters in the living room giggling away and squealing with delight over all the toys under the tree. I cautiously moved at a snail's pace down the hall once again. There sitting on the couch staring at me was the big guy, yet again! I blinked harder and inched my way closer to the couch, oblivious to all the commotion around me.

There he was, still not moving or talking.

"Mama, what is that Santa doing here?" I wanted to know.

She seemed to notice I was not myself.

"Oh! Isn't he cute? Mrs. Brown made it at the florist for us and brought it over last night after y'all went to sleep. He is made of hundreds on tiny pieces of plastic," Mama said. "Look what Santa brought you."

I joined my sisters in a happy whirlwind of wrapping paper and toys knee deep.

From that moment forward, I believed. As for Santa and me, we have an understanding.

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