“The joy of Christmastime…”
Christmas is a holiday that I hold dear to my heart; it always has been. There’s a definite joy that Christmastime brings, and I believe in it—I always have, whether I’ve known it or not.
And I believe in everything about Christmas—the candles, the stockings, Santa Claus, even the mistletoe (even though I’ve never been caught under any).
You could say I believe in the spirit of Christmas.
I guess I believe in all of this because I once really thought there was a man in a red suit who lived on the North Pole in his cute little toy shop—and in my heart I still believe it’s true. These are the kind of childhood memories that no one can let go of, especially me–I’m a kid at heart.
Since I was little, and even before I was born, my family has had a kind of tradition. Before Christmas comes, we go to my one of my Mom’s brothers’ houses, usually my Uncle Danny’s, and have a Christmas Party. We’ve been to my Auntie Maria’s house, my Grampy’s house, my Uncle Johnny’s house, and almost everywhere else. The adults usually get all of the kids’ names in a hat, and pick out names. If my name’s picked, the next name picked is the person I buy a present for. This year, I’m getting a present for my little cousin Maddy. And only when a kid becomes an adult can they be a part of the Yankee Swap that they all take part in, and possibly receive that one funny picture of Uncle Steve that always turns up every year. I have dreams and ideas in my head of pulling through with this tradition until my last Christmas comes around, and making sure it continues even after I’m gone.
I can feel December coming in my heart, my mind, and my soul. That warm, happy feeling that threatens to overthrow every other emotion in the month of December has finally returned. I wait for this feeling all year, especially during that “Christmas in July” phase.
And the feeling is absolutely contagious—I’m going to write a letter to Santa Claus this year, just because I can. I don’t care if people look at me weird. It’s one of those times when you have this really strong belief, and you just believe and don’t care what other people think. Christmas has been, and always will be, something more than lights on a tree to me. It’s a feeling of coming together, of acting a little younger, of just being.
My parents wrap the gifts on Christmas Eve, write “Santa” on some of them, probably even eat the cookies, but I won’t ever ask them to stop; I believe in Christmas.
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