The Icelandic Canadian - 01.09.2000, Side 30

Vol. 56 #1
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
28
Little Gudda did a summersault on the
cot and then sat hugging her knees again.
"Angels," little Gudda whispered softly
to herself. "Like mama said, coming from
heaven."
She skipped into the kitchen where mama
was frying doughnuts in an old cast-iron skil-
let.
"Will it soon be Christmas?" little Gudda
asked, her nose dangerously near the hot
grease in the skillet as she watched the dough
puffing up and turning a golden brown, first
on one side and then on the other.
"Sit here, my love," mama said, settling
little Gudda up on the big covered barrel in
the comer.
"Will it soon be Christmas?” Gudda
insisted again. Then she fell silent in expecta-
tion. Mama was going to teach her a poem, or
tell her a story.
"Tonight is Christmas Eve," mama
began. "Once long, long ago, angels came
down from heaven to tell the shepherds that a
Child was born"
The chores were done: the kerosene lamp
was lit: and upon a shelf above the precious
books two tallow candles and a red one
burned, each in its own metal candlestick,
pushing the shadows of the room deeper into
the corners so that it looked bright and cozy.
Everyone put on their best. Sigga had
brought yards of material when she came
home from waiting tables at The Valley
Hotel. She had sewed skirts, and aprons, and
dresses. Her black skirt swirled in pleats to
her toes and her white waist had tucks and
lace insertions. Her pompadour was higher
than usual and dropped coquettishly down
over one eye.
In her red wool stockings and blue cotton
print dress, with her blonde hair in neat pig-
tails, Gudda felt equally grand, as befitted one
to whom Christmas was coming.
Outside sleighbells jingled.
"It's Otto and Kristjan," father said. "I'll
go stable their horses. Light the lantern
Sigga."
Two young giants in buffalo coats
entered. They held their cold hands over the
glowing heater.
"It's a treat to have guests," mama said.
"What's the news of the folks in Thunder
Hill?"
"I saw your brother yesterday," Kristjan
replied, taking the warm coffee she offered.
"How is he and his family?"
There was much talking, and then a few
hands of cards. Later, the table was set, and
when everyone was seated, mama said,
"Gudda, my love, go and put a stick in the
kitchen stove. I was so busy I forgot."
It took only a minute, but when Gudda
skipped back to her place, she found a linen
alphabet book, a bordered handkerchief with
dancing elephants and a box of candy beside
her plate.
"Santa came a little early," mama
explained, and everyone laughed, including
little Gudda who was almost too excited to
drink her milk and eat the piece of marble
cake with its marvel of icing and coconut.
She turned the pages of her book loving-
ly, watched the candle lights, and listened to
the chorus that began softly with mama's
humming and concluded with the carol,
"Silent night, holy night—"
Little Gudda nodded sleepily. She felt
herself floating on the wings of the northern
lights until she settled into a warm rosy cloud.
And the fabric of her dreams was frescoed
with angels.
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