The Christmases We Carry Within Us!

Christmas is around the corner, and it is the most awaited time of the year for me. I am a Christmas person to the core. December always feels different, softer, lighter, full of promise.

So I put up the Christmas tree, decorated the house with lights, changed the cushion covers and table runners, and wrapped the home in that familiar festive glow. Every time I walk past a room, I catch myself thinking, Alright… what more can I decorate here?

The house looks beautiful, warm, glowing, almost picture perfect.

And yet, somewhere in all the sparkle, I realised that Christmas had quietly turned into décor.

Pretty, yes… but a little hollow.

This morning, out of nowhere, a flood of childhood memories came rushing in. I suddenly remembered how full Christmas used to feel. I do not recall a single Christmas that was lonely or quiet. It was never just the four of us. There were always cousins everywhere, laughter bouncing off the walls, uncles teasing, aunts cooking up feasts, the kind of noise that fills your heart rather than your ears.

Each year, we gathered at one of my mum’s siblings’ homes, and the house would overflow with people and stories. Looking back, I realise now that this was our real Christmas decoration:

People. Togetherness. Familiar voices. Belonging so deep that even silence felt shared.

Some memories still shine so clearly.

There was the time my aunty was frying pooris and all of us children sat glued to the TV, eating what felt like an endless number of them. No one asked how many we’d had. No one stopped us. They just kept feeding us, as if our joy mattered more than any rule.

                                           

Then there was the year we went on a boat ride at a dam. Our boat hit a tree snag and cracked, and water began to gush in. My mum and uncle immediately started scooping water out with a bucket. The boatman rowed with all his strength until we reached the shore. Even now, what stays with me is not fear, but that sense of togetherness. A family that would always find its way through.

And of course, the drama created by my older cousins. We were allowed to watch films overnight, which felt like the ultimate freedom. Whenever even the faintest romantic scene appeared, my brothers would pull a blanket over my head. Completely unnecessary and completely hilarious. I can still hear everyone laughing.

Christmas morning meant dressing up in new outfits and going to church. I honestly cannot remember much of what happened there because we were too focused on finding the cosiest spot… and most of the time, we simply fell asleep while the grown-ups prayed with full enthusiasm.

And then there were the delicacies. My mum and aunts made so many snacks. One year, my mum made cheedai - those tiny fried flour balls with sesame seeds. Something went wrong with the dough, and they started bursting in the oil. She bravely continued, shielding herself while finishing the batch. When she brought the bowl to the table, almost all the cheedais were broken. Only one was perfectly round. I grabbed it proudly, popped it into my mouth and bam! -it burst inside my mouth.

My family still laughs about it. I still do not find it funny!

Christmas greeting cards were another joy. We wrote cards, received cards, and hung them proudly on our tree. Each one had a handwritten message or little drawing. The tree always looked fuller because it carried the love of so many people.

Even our decor was simple yet perfect. We would cut a small tree from the estate and decorate it with whatever we had, balloons, coloured paper, bits of ribbon, cotton for snow. The living room always carried that fresh, woody smell. I can still inhale it if I close my eyes.

How quickly things change.

Today, we search for the perfect ornaments, order ready-made snacks, plan menus, shop for coordinated outfits. Everything is beautiful, curated, polished.

And yet… Christmas doesn’t feel as grand as it did back then.

Because the real sparkle came from the simplicity.

The togetherness.

The unpolished joy.

The people.

All the things money cannot buy, and decor cannot recreate.

Life changes, people drift, and traditions evolve - but the essence of Christmas remains.

May we all find a little of that childhood warmth again, in whatever way we can.

Here’s to the Christmases we carry within us.

Merry Christmas folks!!

Love, 

Nancy Kavin