Three morning sunrays crept into the room with excitement. They slid along the surface of the wooden chairs very slowly and upon a single touch, charged the room with almost palpable trepidation. Three bright starts instantly sparkled and fell on the cheeks of the sleeping boy, kissing him good morning.

It was December 24, the brightest day of all.

The child was still sleepy when he came down the stairs, drawn by an irresistible smell of freshness. The spirit of something very green and very wild was happily hugging the whole house. Two more steps into the corridor, Child saw it: the tree. Father had just brought it inside, the snowflakes still stuck on the chocolate branches. Something magical and unspoken seized all hearts and Mother stopped for a moment in bewilderment, her apron covered in flour; Father, with his hammer hanging by his side, and Child - with his pillow. The promise of a warm night cheered three tired souls.

It was a family ritual that while Mother was kneading the Christmas cookies, Child would decorate the tree. Anxiously, he first climbed a chair and reached out towards the high cupboard where Mother kept all the Christmas garlands and ornaments. Beneath a thin layer of dust, a shiny lustre caught his eye. Memories of gone-by days flooded his heart, but only for an instant. It was all going to happen again. Tonight.

In the friendly company of Hristo Nedyalkov's holiday songs, Child unwrapped the ornaments one by one, very carefully and gently. His small fingers trembled just visibly as Mother came in with a big cookie in a plate. He would always be the first one to taste the first honeyed delicacy. Very tacitly, Mother left it by his side, and quitted the room. She did not want to disturb that special magic that had long ago spread its wings across their family. With the sweet aroma of warm cakes and pastries still present in the air, she glided out, so peaceful and beautiful. Child took one hungry bite. His teeth sank into the fluffy crumb and a shower of castor sugar gracefully rained down on Santa's hat, just like snow. A look up at the red suspended ball, and his face reflected one happy, cheerful smile.

By noon, Mother had cooked three of all the seven meatless meals for tonight: stuffed peppers, beans and a winter squash. Grandma had come home to help out with the rest of the dishes and was now busily peeling potatoes in the kitchen. A little drama had arisen, though: there was no more rice and all shops were closed on a December 24th afternoon. Mother rushed into Child's room only to interrupt the (annual) festive cleaning of his room; Child was to go to the Neighbours' and ask for a cup of brown rice. If not brown, white would do, too, she warned.

Child loved visiting Neighbours. The unpretentious atmosphere of the living room of a 55-year-old jolly old man and his wife was soothing and quite agreeable. Expectedly, life in their flat was on full speed just as well. Child arrived home one cup of rice and much happiness richer.

By the time he was in his warm, almost hot kitchen (hot with aromas, of course), Mother was already halfway through with the round bread loaf. She had reached the point where she was decorating the surface of the bread and inserting the kusmeti, the lucky Christmas charms. This year, she was more imaginative. The little white labels read: Health, Love, Success, Excellent Grades, Excursion to Paris, Red Ferrari, Luck and of course, a glossy silver Coin. She folded them diligently and let Child tuck them into the soft, downy dough.

By 7pm, the flat was buzzing with the excited voices and merry laughter of relatives and friends. It was Christmas Eve and everybody on the family tree, as well as anybody close to their heart, was invited into the warm apartment.

Golden garlands hanging from the ceiling and reflecting bright light; blue, green and yellow balls cozily snug into hidden corners in the cupboards; white table cloth with green pine needles pictures in the corners; crystal glasses and chubby bottles of red wine; huge piles of rolls, sweets, brownies, pastries and cakes beautifully decorated and symmetrically distributed onto long platters; countless dishes of unspeakable beauties: chestnuts, walnuts, dried fruits, steaming pots and vessels…

The bee hive of loved ones grew louder and louder, Christmas folk songs filled the air, new clothes rubbed against each other in the crowd, heartfelt wishes for joy and health were elatedly uttered and they all headed for the living room. Twelve delighted hearts sunk into the woollen sofas and looked out the window. A dark sky, a frosty window, a snowy tree…all that was need to feel at home and contented.