Personal Christmas Stories

What Do the Holidays Mean to Me

I love Christmas time, I always have. The lights and smells. Stuffing myself silly, then trying to cram pumpkin pie in, only to go back for leftovers three hours later. I love the chill in the air, the sound of bells ringing as you shop. The feeling you get when your coins jingle into the big red bucket the bells were ringing for.

Christmas was wonderful for me when I was a child. My mom was Baptist, my dad Jewish, because of my dads religion my sister and I were to be raised in my mom's religion, though we begged for years to try Hanukah as well. My dad always seemed to enjoy the holiday as much as the rest of us, probably because my sister and I always got so excited. I remember breaking my toe one year after getting so excited over a "Mariah Carey" tape. I think I was in the sixth grade. The rest of Christmas was wonderful also, despite my broken toe.

There was also the year my sister and I peeked at our presents. Of course we got caught, but the punishment was not what kept us from peeking again. The lack of surprise is what did it. It's just not much fun opening gifts when you already know what they are.

I've thought a lot about the traditions we had when I was a child, up until I left home they remained. Waiting for the "Frosty the Snowman" and "Charlie Brown" Christmas specials. Getting the Christmas tree that filled the whole house with the smell of wintry pine; Decorating the tree, while drinking enough egg nog that I thought I would be sick. Waiting for my grandmother to show up on Christmas Eve. Sitting in the dark after opening one Christmas Eve gift, watching the Christmas tree, and listening to Christmas music. Finally it was Christmas morning. My sister and I hadn't slept more than an hour the night before, but before we could open presents, we had to get our dad out of bed. We would run into my parents bedroom, jump on my dad, then start zurberting my dads stomach until he finally woke up, all the while my mom has stopped hovering over the ham long enough to stand at the bedroom door laughing at our antics. Then after gifts are opened, eating and eating, until everyone is so stuffed.