For like the zillionth time, I left my bags in the car when I shopped. I was out of town, making an unplanned stop at a big-box store that I normally avoid. Sometimes, though, there’s just no way around it.

So, there I was, with a cart full of party necessities, sprinkled with a few grocery items and a hint of Christmas. Bagging would happen in the car.

So, there he was, an officious security door elf, studying each cart and register tape as shoppers left. I understood; retail theft is a big problem. I handed him my tape.

“Left my bags in the car,” I said with a smile and a shrug.

He didn’t smile back. He intensely eyed my cart, cross-referencing each item with the receipt.

I waited.

Finally, he spoke. “Is that a … book?” His expression was a bit incredulous, maybe even judgmental.

“Yeah, the movie is coming out. My daughter wanted to read it.”

“I’ve never seen a person buy a book before.” He was serious. “A book, now you don’t see that every day,” he continued, more to himself than to me. “A book, hmpf.”

I started to respond, then stopped. Externally silent, but internally, my mind was churning. The first thought wasn’t very charitable. The second was that Mr. Door Elf would be flabbergasted by the Icelandic tradition of Jolabokaflod. Roughly translated, that means “Christmas Book Flood.” Nationwide, books are exchanged on Christmas Eve, and families gather to drink hot chocolate and read.

This practice originated in WWII. In 1944, newly independent Iceland was struggling with a weak economy. Imports were limited; Christmas gifts were scarce. Paper, however, was plentiful. The Icelandic Publishers Association capitalized on this intersection of realities and produced the first catalog listing every book printed that year. Every household received a copy. Book sales took off. To this day, an annual catalog is distributed in November, keeping the tradition alive. 40% of all book sales in Iceland happen during the holiday season.

Sounds peaceful and a bit Hallmark card-like, doesn’t it? You can picture the scene: snow falling outside, a fire crackling in the fireplace, the perfect family reading and sipping warm drinks. Ah, Christmas Eve …

Well, maybe in Iceland, but not in my world. Christmas Eve morning always meant baking, replacing the cookies for Santa that “someone” had mistakenly eaten. Next would be the casserole and appetizers for a family gathering. The fire alarm would go off at least twice, bringing about its own drama. The kids would take turns guarding the substitute cookies. I would worry we forgot something. Then the crazy, joyful, entertaining exchange of gifts with one side of the family would begin.

Stuffed and suffering from sensory overload, the party would be followed by a scavenger hunt of “Where did I hide that present?” This could be time-consuming. (The longest I misplaced a present was five years.) While the missing gift might or might not be found, at least two other surprises would appear. Emergency wrapping commenced. Some years, emergency assembly commenced as well.

Kids were tucked in. Dogs were too. Husband was as well. I struggled to stay awake until silence blanketed the house. Only then could I sneak out and help the big red guy fill stockings and such. By one or two a.m., I would sleep.

In comparison, the communal reading of books seems so much more civilized. But, as lovely as it sounds, I hope my Christmas Eves are never quiet enough for a Jolabokaflod. I love their merry chaos.

Then again, timing is everything. What if indulging in a book was the finale? We could exchange books on Christmas Day, then drift into our separate corners to read. With the opened gifts neatly stacked under the tree and the television turned off, the only sound would be the pages turning and an occasional chuckle. If you were feeling Icelandic, it could be called Bokafrid (book peace).

No schedules, no lists to consult, no more small talk to be made. Just cozy blankets, warm drinks and stories to immerse yourself in. A time to read, relax and enjoy the time after the holidays. And that’s when you’d know that having family, friends and a good book can be exactly enough.