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<center>![image.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/popurri/23tvkkQ6HCzmbV4rLRa5gGYuRqRwewg6bFJ59F2TY3bc2Dsx82L7V4KVyLrYPH2Atp79c.png)</center><center>[source](https://pixabay.com/es/photos/patinaje-del-rodillo-movilidad-rodar-4178417/)</center>



A very fun tradition that has been lost over the years, was the rooster mass, so called because it was done very early in the morning and was the beginning of the Christmas festivities.  At five o'clock in the morning, before the sun rose and the rooster crowed, my mother was already waking us up to get ready and go out. We lived in the parish of El Valle and the church was very close to us. 
 
At that time in Caracas the temperatures in the month of December could go down to 12 degrees Celsius, which for us inhabitants of this city, was quite cold and when we went out so early my five sisters and I put on our coats and hats and something that could not be missing in a rooster mass... we took our skates on.

We all had four-wheeled iron skates that fit the size of our feet that my dad had bought for us. We learned to skate from a very young age and that cost us many falls and scraped knees until we became expert skaters, on the sidewalks and on the sports field in the community where we lived.

My mother and our neighbor, Mrs. Gisela, used to make hot chocolate and arepitas sweetened with piloncillo and anise seeds, very tasty. Her family and ours would walk along those traditional streets of old Caracas until we reached the church square. There the bells called for mass talán, talán, talán and while the grown-ups entered the church to pray, we boys went to enjoy a great skate. We grabbed each other and made chains around the church, the skates screeched against the pavement, until the chain broke at the weakest link, which were usually the youngest or inexperienced in the art of skating. And whoops, many of us fell to the floor. 

"Well, guys, you're going to get beaten up! Be careful with the little ones!" shouted the lady who sold coffee on a corner.

These young people don't see the danger, my mother replied.  There are my daughters, they arrive home all scratched and sometimes with torn pants, but it is a tradition they can't miss, and they love it.


<center>![image.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/popurri/23tSSNRFUT7jE2Zw8wjQxucL7WTG1ZwN8boQiu3HYdyPVB6pKu9rGTchpcvp41YaYf4pJ.png)</center><center>[source](https://pixabay.com/es/photos/taza-chocolate-caliente-beber-829091/)</center>


Tired from so much skating and with hunger starting to make our stomachs growl, we sat on the benches in the square to eat all the delicacies that were sold. Right there, empanadas and arepitas were fried and the smoke from the frying pans was confused with the mist coming down from Avila, the mountain that protects the city.

The atmosphere was so pleasant with that cold and the steam coming out of our mouths made us fantasize. Childhood is a wonderful stage where every event, no matter how simple it may be, becomes a reason for play and fantasy.

Over the years, we grew up and the joy of the Rooster Mass was lost with the hustle and bustle of life and the growth of the city. The cobblestone streets with their large and beautiful houses disappeared and were filled with buildings and shopping malls where once there was a square full of people who shared a Christmas tradition.

The skating was left in the memories of those children who had the joy of having those experiences where joy, companionship, fun and group play regardlessplay of age, was the way to celebrate the holidays. Boys and girls all with only one goal... to enjoy the beginning of Christmas, 


![Diseño sin título (1).jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/popurri/48Kd8r2Ft2Tg2v8h7ygRyLc6eWnjKTmE898WsukFwAE17YcWTukENKxgtp6SjCHcmd.jpg)

Thank you for reading. This is my participation in Creative Nonfiction in The Ink Well: Prompt #6, with a story of a Christmas tradition I enjoyed as a child. I hope you like it. 

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