Christmas Memories

Think about your best Christmases ever. Who's in those memories? For me, it's my brother, my college roommate CJ (which as I think about it, is an odd choice because it was such a short snapshot of time in my life), and my first-born.


When I was a kid, Christmas Eve was spent at my Grandmother and Grandfather Swayne's house. Although both sets of grandparents lived within 10 miles of one another, I'm guessing that we stayed with Mom's mom and dad because there was more room at the inn. Jimmy and I shared a room. It was a small room - a twin bed against one wall, a crib against the other, and just enough room to walk between the two. There was a window at the head of the twin bed. I can remember looking out that window trying to catch Santa flying by. Jimmy peeking out through the slats of the crib asking me if I saw Santa yet. Jake is two and a half now, and he is exactly like how I remember Jim in those early years. I always woke up first Christmas morning and lay there trying to figure out how to wake Jimmy up without actually getting caught waking Jimmy up (and thus getting yelled at by Mom). We'd tear downstairs and open all our gifts. We were supposed to be quiet because Grandpa never got up for Santa gifts. I never understood how he could want to sleep instead of seeing all the great toys! Then in true older sister fashion, I'd look over Jimmy's toys and start playing with whatever I thought looked more fun than what I got. There's 23 of those Christmas mornings together.

The second wonderful memory I have of Christmas is 1984. My college roommate CJ and I had an apartment at RIT. We got ourselves a Christmas tree and put it up. We decorated it and put our gifts under it. I'm sure our boyfriends Rob and Dan probably helped, but I don't really remember that part. Just that CJ and I had our very own Christmas tree. I just remember feeling so independent and adult, all from one little Christmas tree.


My third stand-out memory of Christmas is Kirsten's first. Mark and I traipsed out to cut down a Christmas tree for our new house. It was by far the best Christmas tree we've ever had. We took Kirsten everywhere that Christmas, but the place I remember as the most fun that year was Mark's sister Sue's house. In our house, we open presents one at a time in some chosen order. At Mark's family, everyone got a pile of gifts and then they all opened them all at the same time. It was crazy fun for me. Mid-present opening, Kirsten got down on the floor in the middle of the torn wrapping paper. She was throwing the paper around and screaming at the top of her lungs. In the photo she looks like a mad-baby, but she was having an absolute blast amid the papers. Of course, everyone was laughing at her and paying attention to her, which made her perform her little act in the papers even more. I've always been one to follow the rules. I was always trying to be perfect. Let me tell you, that's very stressful. My husband has been a mellowing influence on me over the years. "My house is messy? So what, come on over for dinner." That would've never happened in a million years when we were first together. I would've killed myself (and everyone around me) making the perfect house before inviting people in. That Christmas in 1992 began the freedom of spirit Mark and the kids have given to me over the past 16 years.

Christmas--that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance--a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved.
--Augusta E. Rundel