My grandparents whom I knew as Amma and Afi lived in a big old house called Eyolfstodum. They brought many Christmas traditions with them from Iceland. To Icelanders, Christmas Eve is more meaningful than Christmas Day, so on Christmas Eve the whole family gathered at Amma's and Afi's to celebrate together.

We had dreamed about Christmas for weeks, ever since the new Eaton's catalogue arrived. Almost everything was ordered from the catalogue, and time was needed to return and exchange items that did not live up to the description given. There were gifts to order, and we all had to have something new to wear, as one of the traditions brought over from Iceland was that everyone had to have at least one new item of clothing for Christmas Eve. Another tradition was that every corner of the house had to be cleaned until it shone; all the dusting and polishing had to be done by six o'clock in the evening.

The day before Christmas Eve some of my uncles went into the woods nearby to chop down the best-shaped spruce tree. It also had to be tall enough to nearly reach the ceiling. The tree was set in a corner of the dining room and was trimmed with crêpe-paper streamers and home-made decorations. Candles in their holders were clipped to the branches. Red and green crêpe-paper streamers were strung around the dining room and parlour, the big double doors to the parlour were kept open, and the red geraniums on every windowsill added to the festive air.

As everyone arrived at Eyolfstodum they were seated in the dining room and parlour. Presents were piled all around the tree and on the big dining room table. Most of Amma's and Afi's eleven children and thirty-five grandchildren would be there, as well as the hired man and a few neighbours. Amma always had gifts for everyone. At eight o'clock, Amma sat down at a small table, picked up the Bible, and read the Christmas story in Icelandic. Then Afi spoke, thanking God for the blessings of the past year, for his wife and his children who were gathered together in love and fellowship.

Then Afi lit the candles on the tree. We children had been waiting impatiently for this moment. The flickering candles illuminating the tree made an almost magical sight. Afi stood close by, watching, lest the candles set the tree on fire. Everyone then sang some familiar carols, both Icelandic and English. The candles were blown out and the presents distributed.

Excited and happy, we children went upstairs to play with our cousins and the new toys. Downstairs, lunch was being prepared. The dining room table was set with a white tablecloth and large white candles. There were platefuls of rulla-pylsa on Icelandic brown bread, ponnukokur, kleinur, vinarterta, Christmas cake, cookies, and sometimes bowls of fresh fruit, served with brimming cups of hot chocolate, another Icelandic tradition.

After the lunch, everyone gathered up their gifts. It was time to go home. I remember walking with my family through the crisp winter air, filled with that wonderful spirit of Christmas, which is love.