The True Meaning of Christmas

Author's Note: In my AP Language & Composition class, we are learning about personal memoirs and for an assignment we had to write about one childhood memory and how it has affected our lives.

           As I begin to ponder what childhood memories best portray my life story, I can’t help but have a mental brain block. One would ask – including my mother when I asked for her help in brainstorming – “how can you possibly not think of anything to write about? You’ve had an extremely blessed childhood filled with many vacations, adventures, and memories.” That being said, I could have easily taken one of my trips to Disney, the Wisconsin Dells, or the day I got my dog and spiced it up with some overly dramatic adjectives and fillers of emotions I don’t actually remember. Truth is I wanted to dig deeper and go beyond just another “story." I wanted to think long and hard about something that means the world to me and that I could write about with sincere and honest emotion. In fact, I started writing this with the intention of coming up with something, and I did. So let us begin…

My eyes slowly open, my body shivering beneath the covers. Subconsciously, I go to grab my comforter – hoping to stay inside the warm embrace of my bed – but as I lift myself up, I am startled by the bright white light streaming in through my window. Finally, my brain begins to function and my eyes become huge at the remembrance that today is, in fact, Christmas Eve. A smile finds its way across my face and suddenly I am warm; the gentle falling of snowflakes outside my window fills my heart with a certain joy and peace.   

Before I even have the chance to get out of bed, my younger sister comes running in through my door, her six year old voice crying out, “Taylor, Taylor, it’s here, it’s here – Christmas Eve is here!” The excitement in her voice is the sound of Christmas. But soon after that, I begin to hear actual holiday carols coming from downstairs. The chiming of bells and the crackling of the fire resonate within the walls of my house. My mom yells from the kitchen, “Get up T, we have to leave for Grandma’s in an hour and you still have to shower,” but little does she know the anticipation already has me up and getting ready.  

The minute we leave our snow packed driveway, I start to countdown the minutes until we arrive at my grandparents’ house. With my blanket in hand, I settle into a comfortable position and prepare for, what seems to be, the longest two hours of my life. My sister and I draw snowflakes on the fogged up windows and giggle to each other because we know our mother never likes it when we do that. But, it’s Christmas and she lets it slide. This is what we look forward to every year.

We pull into a crowded driveway filled with at least a dozen cars: we are here. My dad hands us each a box of beautifully wrapped gifts – my mom was always good at that – and we walk inside. Immediately, my nose is welcomed with the sweet aroma of pine, ham, and gingerbread and I’m greeted with a hug from Grandma and Papa. Jammed in every corner, hundreds of decorations are strewn about and as I look around, what isn’t packed with glass snowmen, Santa figures, and wreaths, is filled with laughter, bliss, and love.

It’s an annual tradition, how this day plays out. First, we wait for the entire house to fill up with guests – both family and friends – and by the time I can barely walk around without bumping into Great Uncle Lou, or stepping on Jared’s toe, we gather around the living room to start opening presents. The younger kids, including myself, have already made some predictions of what the gifts will be – seeing as we snuck into the present room earlier and scoped out the big boxes and who they were addressed to. Suddenly, the room is filled with sounds of tearing wrapping paper and “thank yous.” Toy cars, CDs, and knitted scarves scatter across the floor until the carpet completely disappears.     

While everyone gathers their abundance of gifts, bodies begin to migrate towards the kitchen where we will feast on the holiday classics: ham, stuffing, potatoes, and rolls. I grab at least a pound of ham because my grandma makes it the best, but amidst my indulgence, I can’t help but drool over the desserts to come afterwards. Cookies, on pudding, on pie, on cake cover the counter and before we can even swallow our dinner, our plates are bombard with goodies and treats. There is nothing that brings my family together more than a heaping amount of food.

The night begins to dwindle down and the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree illuminate the house as darkness sweeps in through the window. Everyone is scattered around the house – some falling into a food coma and some playing with their newly acquired toys.

It’s been a long day and my eyes start to feel heavy. My sister looks tired as well, but we both know this day only comes once a year so our adrenaline keeps us awake. Our mom tells us to go upstairs and put on our new Christmas pajamas because we are leaving soon. After my dad loads the car, we say our goodbyes and with a “Merry Christmas” we are off.

However, the car ride home never ceases to entertain me. My sister and I plunge into conversation of our plans for tomorrow and our wishes for more presents – this time, the ones from Santa Claus. The time is now midnight and I ask my sister where in the world she thinks Santa is. She answers, “All I know is he can’t be at our house, because we aren’t in bed yet.” Nodding my head in agreement, I turn to look out the window, only to see a red light flashing in the sky. I tell my sister to look and we both mutter, “Rudolph” at the same time. Once again, a smile crosses my face and I lay my head down to fall asleep.

And every year it goes the same way, but I wouldn’t change a thing. Looking back at my childhood, there is nothing more perfect that I could have written about. There is no other family I would rather be a part of and each and every year, with all the craziness and chaos, I am reminded of that. Although some members of my family have come and gone, the feeling of togetherness, the feeling of love, and the feeling of joy never fades. And every year as I watch the people around me grow older, I remember that I, too, grow with them and in that I have learned the true meaning of Christmas. It is as if my world freezes on that cold winter’s night, when we all gather to open presents, and I’m left staring at a room full of the people that I love. Reminiscing on that moment, I can truly say that the greatest gift I have every received is my family. 

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