Hiya Monday, (Christmas Magic!)

It is my favourite time of year! (Not weather wise, that would be fall). But this festive time of year always gifts me cheer and happiness. What is it about this time that is just so …wonderful? Firstly, I am obsessed with Christmas lights, with Christmas decorations/displays, with Christmas trees, and Christmas aesthetics. No matter how foul a mood I may be in, if I am find myself in view of Christmas lights and decorations, I am instantly filled with cheer. I will freeze my hands off, let my toes go numb, my cheeks burn red, just to take in the pretty lights and decorations found along Toronto streets. Stiff, cold fingers and toes, it is all worth it. To just be in that moment, surrounded by so many sparkling, twinkling adornments.

And if it's snowing!? Even better! I mean snow is ugh, and cold, and an inconvenience generally, but we can’t deny its beauty. When the snow falls, especially from a dark sky, it makes everything appear dream-like and wonderfully enchanting. When the world is a blanket of bright glittering white, and the sky is an ocean of onyx, and there you stand in between it all, it can feel…magical. Really, everything about the holiday aesthetic is quite magical, and I don’t care how cheesy or corny that sounds. (Cheesy and corny are basically synonyms and are both related to food, I just noticed that, how odd. Lol). But like I was saying, I will stand outside turning to ice, like Anna did at the end of Frozen, just to capture all the beauty that this holiday brings to this overpriced, condo-obsessed, construction-ridden city.

Besides the magical, enchanting aesthetics of this holiday, I also love the…food!! Turkey, stuffing, shortbread cookies, chocolates, cakes, pies! Wear loose fitting dresses, or stretchy pants because seconds, thirds, and plenty of desserts are a must! Especially the stuffing, my mom always knew to make extra stuffing, otherwise I would guard and hoard it all for myself. I love the family gatherings, even though my family was small, and there were only a handful of Christmases where extended family came through, regardless, it brought us together around the table. Only smiles, and laughs, and stuffed bellies. It was always a time that shielded us from the reality of our otherwise not-so-cheery lives.

Growing up we were poor, dirt poor, single mother on welfare poor, yet somehow (at least until I was about ten), my mother always made sure Christmas felt like it did on TV. The tall, lighted, decorated Christmas tree, the stocking’s, the bowed reefs, the x-mas ornaments, and just enough gifts underneath the tree to appear as if we weren’t wanting. My favourite Christmas tradition was the gift she would allow us to open on Christmas eve. In same ways, I was always anticipating the night before Christmas more than Christmas itself. Because I knew, finally, she would allow us to at least open one. She would choose, probably saving the best for the morning, but no matter what it was (gloves, scarfs, a Barbie, a sweater) no matter what, I absolutely loved it, because it was the first gift, after a whole year of waiting (it seemed) that I could tear apart the wrapping like a terror, and hold in my hand, something new. Something I longed for without even knowing. It was magical. Especially, because we were so poor, so wanting, so desperate. Christmas made us forget. Made us feel like we were just like any ol’ family. Like we were the happy children we had seen in all those holiday movies.

Christmas morning, we were up early with the sun. There was no need for alarm clocks because our eager hearts just knew. My mother, trying to make sure we didn’t spend the day on empty bellies, would make us eat breakfast before we rushed over to the Christmas tree. The three of us, just wiggling and squirming in our seats, while barely chewing our food, gulping it all down so we could rush over and tear into our gifts. The rest of the day would be spent playing with new toys while holiday music and movies played in the background and the smell of a hearty cooked meal filled our nostrils…and eventually our bellies.

I don’t have too many happy childhood memories, but Christmas was lit. The rest of the year may have been cold, and depressing, and tiring, and barely manageable, but around Christmas it was like Cinderella’s fairy God-mother had come through and dusted the apartment in fairy dust casting a lasting illusion. Call me lame, call me corny, roll your eyes, but that, my friends, was the closest thing to magic.

What were your favourite holiday traditions?

Until next time,

With love,

Teya