Magical Holidays of My Youth

The nights were dark but even in winter the roar of the mosquitos could be heard as I slept under the “mosquitero” – the mosquito net that hung over all the beds. But during late December, nights seemed to go faster and full of people and voices. The 24^th of December was Noche Buena – “the good night” – the night when families got together and had a big meal and drink red wine. Mom’s side of the family was large and it would gather at my great grandmother’s big house. With ten kids nine of which were married and all had kids and grandkids of their own – the gathering of aunts, uncles, and cousins – old and young – was a special night in that old house built in 1827 with the big clock on the wall. That was my family and who knows how long they had been gathering there for Noche Buena. I was probably the youngest kid there but on that night 1827 didn’t seem all that long ago.  All we heard that night was laughter and great-grandma telling stories.

A few days later came the new year. Always a special night not only because I got to stay up late with my parents and grandma, but because as the clock approached midnight special things would happen. Dad, mom, grandma, and me would sit around the dining table. Each of us had 12 grapes in front of us and a glass of red wine. As the distant church bells began to slowly chime the twelve bells of midnight, we would each eat a grape with each bell. All was quiet. Just the slow ringing of the distant bell. But once the bell stopped and all twelve grapes were swallowed the whole town would wake up. Every block had a stuffed man tied to a tree or post and at midnight each block would set fire to the old man year. I could see them burning block after block as I looked down the hill toward the church. But other than the burning men, few people were on the street because everyone also had a bucket of water ready to throw out the window to wash away all the bad things of the old year. It was a special night; one I would grow to appreciate so many years later as looked back to what I had lost from those early days of childhood in my tropical island of Cuba.

But so far, all the holiday celebrations were for the grownups to enjoy. The special day for us kids came on the 6^th of January – that was Three Kings Day – the day when the three magic kings would leave a present for every kid. Mom had explained to me that during the night while I slept the three kings would turn into smoke and seep into the house under the door and leave a present for me. I must have been five or six when I secretly wished for a tricycle. I never dared ask for one for I knew they were expensive and my parents couldn’t afford one. I remember waking up early and sneaking to the living room to find… nothing. Mom and dad were looking as I walked to the door that led to the patio. The door was closed. No sign of any smoke or anything having come through. Mom gently said, “open it”. I opened the door and there under the early morning sun under the areca palm in the patio was a shining new red tricycle! I remember crying out of joy and being hugged by mom and dad. I miss them both as much as I miss those magical holidays of my youth.