It was the year of the bike!
This is when Santa existed no longer! I loved Christmas. For all the wrong reasons. Christmas was nothing to me when I was little, other than presents and good food. Christmas was all about me and that is why I loved it. The meaning behind Christmas meant nothing to me. I sat through my mother's Bible reading every year and rolled my eyes to myself thinking "Jesus is cool...but Santa is better." Though my mom tried her hardest to make Christmas meaningful, I had nothing to do with all that.
Christmas Eve would come and the clock would slow down, I swear. The Christmas Eve service lasted too long, and I would kick my leg constantly. Even when my mom put her hand on my leg and gave me the stink eye, I didnt stop. She would whisper, "Everyone on this pew can feel that!" Still didn't stop! How could you sit still when in mere hours Santa was going to come down your chimney? The service would FINALLY end and Mom would want to chat. I mean, how can you hold idle conversation when presents are coming? "Let's go Mom! If we aren't home, Santa will pass the log cabin on Poplarwood Road!"