sugar quill

Christmas for me pretty much always meant PRESENTS. That’s what I focused on. And being ridiculous and putting up the tree and going over-the-top and strewing lights everywhere and having an awesome breakfast/brunch/snack thing going on. I used to be excited to wake up and run down and see what it was in my stocking.

Since I’m the youngest child, once I figured out the whole Santa thing, the stocking thing subsequently stopped. For awhile I’ve been disappointed at the lack of presents (which sounds horrible, but I’m a consumerist, sue me), and eventually putting up the tree as a family affair came down to just me and maybe my dad.

But now - I think because since I have my own money to spend and because I’ve gone off to college - I’m just looking forward to spending time with family and getting fat off my mom’s cooking and whatever else we decide to prepare.

So I guess that’s what Christmas means for me now.

But that magical This is Christmas moment for me always happens on Christmas eve - when my parents are asleep in their room, and I just sit in front of the tree and turn off all the lights. I hope that’s something that never stops being magical even if I’ve long known the logistics behind it and Christmas in general.