The holidays have always held a special place in my heart. As a child, this time of year felt magical—layered with tradition, family, and a sense of togetherness that seemed effortless back then—when my biggest concerns were simple and small, as they tend to be in childhood.
Christmas Eve meant gathering with more than thirty relatives in New Orleans, in a house filled with laughter, noise, food, and love. Late that night, my three siblings and I would pile into our orange Volkswagen van for the ride back home to Fairhope, Alabama. My dad would drive fast so we could beat Rudolph and Santa back to the house, while I scanned the dark sky, half-worried and half-hoping I might catch a glimpse of them before we arrived. When we finally made it home, we were allowed to open one present before heading to bed—just enough to hold us over until morning.
Christmas morning always came early. We would wake to a house filled with presents, followed by a big family breakfast—scrambled eggs, bacon, and my grandmother’s pancakes—simple, comforting, and unforgettable. That breakfast was usually followed by hours outdoors, playing with our new treasures: a football, hula hoops, a rock polisher, an Easy-Bake Oven, and a swing set that I suspect took Santa all night to put together.
When my son was little, I tried to create that same sense of wonder for him. We baked cookies for Santa, sprinkled reindeer food for his team, and leaned fully into the magic of the season. Those traditions felt endless then. Today, he is a young adult living in a different city, and while I miss those years, I am incredibly grateful that he will be home this holiday season. The magic hasn’t disappeared—it has simply changed.
Now, I hold these memories with deep gratitude—and, if I’m honest, with a slight sense of bittersweetness too. My parents are no longer here, and my role as a mother has evolved. The joy remains, but it feels quieter and more reflective, shaped by the seasons of life we all move through.
I hope your holidays are filled with harmony and joy—and for all those who need it, a little strength too.
