For me, at my age (67), the Christmas memories seem to speed by as if the fast forward button were pushed. They run together. I have memories of my childhood. As an only child, it was pretty much about my grandparents (maternal) and my uncles, hurrying over at an early hour so I could get to my gifts from Santa! I really didn't care much about anyone else getting gifts. In my teens Christmas became a sad time—my father, grandmother, and grandfather died within 3 years of one another at Christmas time. Santa disappeared for a while.
Time does heal and we—my mother and me, along with her new husband, and her now grown and married brother (who wasn't much older than me)—celebrated together. As he had children, I watched the progression of their anxious desire for the presents. A time once again when Santa was real! Time passes and I'm the one with children. They are the excited about the gifts and it's a delight. Santa has returned!
The years rush by. The children are all grown. I had a time again with no Santa. Now, he's back in the eyes of my grandchildren. What a delight it is once again to live the wonderful fantasy of Santa. (Fantasy—what am I saying, he is real!) Even during the times with no Santa, Christmas was always celebrated together, with our traditions. As people passed on some of them evolved but core is there. This is a comforting feeling. I know Santa will always return and the family will be together. This is Christmas.
Merry Christmas, everyone.