When I was younger, Christmas was always my favorite holiday. Of course, like many children my age, one of the best parts of Christmas was getting presents and waiting for Santa to come. It wasn’t just Christmas day that I loved…it was the whole entire season. Winter concerts, hosting the fire department every year on their Santa run, and of course, the last day of school before Christmas vacation when we would build gingerbread houses, drink hot chocolate and watch The Polar Express. And then I grew up…

As the years went on, Christmas began to feel less Christmas-y every year. Gone were the days of going up to our beloved Christmas tree farm in Connecticut, getting a tree and writing a letter to Santa while enjoying some hot chocolate. Gone were the days of waiting in line to sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what I wanted for Christmas. My heart sunk when my parents told me the truth about Santa. Certain family members who were a huge part of the Christmas magic when I was younger have begun to pass on. No longer was I a child who had no responsibilities around Christmas time except to just enjoy myself. Once I went off to college, Christmas began to feel like a never-ending list of things I had to do and buy, and of course, coming home straight after finishing an entire semester of college, I was already quite burnt out to begin with. I slowly began to dread what was once my favorite day of the year. 

This morning, I was at work bright and early, cleaning the self checkout area and getting it ready for opening. While I was doing that, I took a moment to listen to the music. Don’t get me wrong, I love holiday music, but as a retail employee, I can only listen to songs like Last Christmas and All I Want For Christmas (and the gazillion and a half covers of those songs) so many times before losing my mind. Anywho, instead of tuning out of the holiday music, I started to listen, I heard White Christmas playing, and I almost started tearing up. 

I was a member of my elementary school’s senior chorus (and the select chorus as well). Our winter concert finale was always White Christmas, and after we sang it once, our director, Mrs. McGrath, would invite all of the Central Boulevard alumni up to the risers to sing it with us. It was so heartwarming to see the entire community coming together. And in that moment, all of the memories of Christmas growing up came back. The hot chocolate, the gingerbread houses, and watching Polar Express. 

And then I thought about the ending of Polar Express, when the young boy opens up his last Christmas present: the bell he received when he met Santa at the North Pole. He rings it, and he and his little sister are in awe, but their parents can’t hear it. The boy and his sister grow up, and she no longer hears the bell, but it always rings for him and all of the believers. That was when I realized that the magic of Christmas never disappeared; it lives inside of each and every one of us. We just have to believe in it. Maybe it’s not the gifts, or the hot cocoa, or Santa Claus that make Christmas what it is. Perhaps it’s just being with those we love the most and making memories that will last a lifetime. Maybe it’s using a little bit of our own magic to help others out in tough times. Despite all that has changed over the years, I can still hear the bells ringing now and every year to come. 

And so, to all of my family and friends, and everyone else reading this, may your days be merry and bright…and may all your Christmases (or whatever holiday you celebrate) be white. ❤️💚