I remember being six years old.

In those days, I looked forward to Christmas Eve all year. In my household, every Christmas Eve was marked by the largest family gathering of the year. Great people, great food, and topped off with a visit from Santa Claus himself, with presents in tow.

The night before Christmas Eve, I could never fall asleep. Heart pounding. Knees shaking. Eyes wide open, glancing at the clock every three minutes to see how much time had passed. I knew that in just mere hours, the day that I had been looking forward to for 364 days would be here.

And then I grew up. And for some reason, along with growing up, I lost the ability to go completely out of my mind with excitement for something. Christmas Eve is still my favourite day of the year, but I sleep calmly on the night of the 23rd. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe not.

But it feels good to feel that way again.

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