'Twas the night before Christmas and all through my little white house, not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse. The room is lit only by firelight. Beside the Christmas Tree, I sink deeper into the softness of my armchair, my body relaxes and my mind begins to play a reel like an old picture house, of Christmas eves gone by… A memoir blog post about some of the Christmas Eves in my life and how they have changed over the decades.