When I think about Christmas as a child growing up in the Northeast, I donāt remember just one morning or one present. I remember the waiting. The feeling that something wonderful was getting closer, and that everyone around me was waiting for it, too.
I grew up in a large Italian family, and Christmas belonged to all of us. It meant being together, hearing familiar voices, and sharing an excitement that seemed to fill the house. Looking back, I realize how much of that magic came from my parents and the family around us. At the time, of course, I thought most of it came from Santa.
Thanksgiving Morning, Before the Parade
For me, the Christmas season began on Thanksgiving morning. My mother would be up at five oāclock to start the turkey. While she was already busy getting the day underway, we were looking forward to watching the Macyās Thanksgiving Day Parade.
We watched knowing who would arrive at the end. There were all those things to see along the way, but Santa was the one we were waiting for. His appearance meant more than the end of a television program. To a child, it felt like an announcement: Christmas was coming, and now we could really start looking forward to it.
Even today, I associate that moment with the beginning of the holidays. I can think of Santa arriving at the end of the parade and, in the same memory, think of my mother getting up before the rest of us to make Thanksgiving happen.
When the Stores Became Christmas
After Thanksgiving, the stores were decorated, and the excitement followed us out of the house. A shopping trip became something to look forward to. There was Christmas everywhere we looked, and each decorated store seemed to bring the day a little closer.
Those holiday sights became part of the way I remember growing up in the Northeast. An ordinary place could feel completely different once it was dressed for Christmas. I didnāt think about the work that went into it. I just enjoyed being surrounded by it.
A Family Photograph That Brings It Back
The photograph here brings me back to that childhood. Four children gathered in front of the tree, with ornaments and tinsel above us. It is the kind of family picture that becomes more valuable with every year that passes.
I look at it now and notice the room as well as the children: the curtains, the chair, the way the tree was decorated. Things that seemed ordinary then can bring back a whole feeling now. A photograph holds still the little details that memory sometimes lets slip away.
Being part of a large Italian family gave Christmas a feeling of belonging. Whatever else we were excited about, we were sharing it with one another. We didnāt know we were making memories that would stay with us for the rest of our lives. We were just children, waiting for Christmas.
Charlie Brown, Cookies, and Milk
Watching A Charlie Brown Christmas was another part of the season I looked forward to. It belonged to that special stretch of the year when familiar things felt exciting again. The program, the decorations, the parade, and the tree all became connected in my mind.
Then came Christmas Eve, when we put out cookies and milk for Santa. It was a small thing to do, but it mattered. We were getting ready for an actual visitorāor at least that was how real it felt to us. Leaving the cookies and milk made us part of the preparations.
Going to bed was another matter. How were we supposed to fall asleep when Santa was coming? The house could be quiet, but there was nothing quiet about the excitement in our heads.
āGo Back to Sleep!ā
Christmas morning could never arrive quickly enough. We were ready for it long before our parents were ready for us. I can still remember being told to go back to sleep, as though that were a reasonable thing to ask a child on Christmas morning.
On any other day, a little more sleep might have sounded good. On that morning, every extra minute felt like a very long time. Santa had come. Christmas was finally here. How could we possibly go back to sleep?
What stays with me now is that excitement, more than a list of what was under the tree. I remember how it felt to be a child in that house, with my family, at the moment we had been waiting for.
The Traditions That Stay With Us
Iām older now, but those memories havenāt lost their strength. Thanksgiving morning still brings the parade to mind. Santa arriving at the end still feels like the beginning of something. A decorated store, a familiar Christmas special, or a plate of cookies can take me back much further than I expect.
I also understand more clearly what my parents gave us. My mother getting up at five to start the turkey was doing something that, to us, simply happened every year. So much of what felt effortless to a child was someone elseās care and work.
The years have changed the way I experience Christmas, but they havenāt taken those feelings away. I still carry that big Italian family, that childhood in the Northeast, and all those little traditions with me. The child who waited for Santa is older now. The memoriesāand the love wrapped up in themāare still as strong as ever.
