Christmas, reborn
December 26, 2006
For the past few years, Christmas was lost to me. Almost. It was locked away in a dark room inside me and only looked at furtively and with regret. It wasn't the same, no it wasn't. And bang went the door, for yet another year.
These past five years the winter holidays were only days of regret, of looking back and wishing for that bit of sparkle to ignite my holiday mood. I was dry, empty and depressed.
How can I think of Christmas when there is no snow, no tree evergreen and no family and friends to share it with?
My mother, father and sister are thousands of kilometers away. They might as well be in another world and in a way I guess they are. My relatives live in a small village in a house with a real Christmas tree and a hot burning stove that gives forth the smell of cakes, freshly baked. I only have to close my eyes and I can hear the people singing carols on the streets, the small children with their cheeks red from the cold and their voices innocent and sweet, carrying small bags which will be filled with pretzels, cakes, apples and walnuts, their just rewards for bringing the Christmas songs into the house of people.
I grew up in a house where Christmas was the most important religious celebration of the year. My mother spent a lot of time in the kitchen, cooking, baking, and we, my sister and I, would put up the Christmas tree. A big box of ornaments was brought for the decoration process: delicate glass globes of many colors, big and small, white garlands, and my favorites, chocolate candies wrapped in silver-white shiny paper. My sister and I used to eat the candies straight from the tree (sometimes even before we put them up), arranging the wrappings afterwards so that our parents wouldn't notice. Not until they wanted to eat the candies.
This year I decided to let Christmas out of that dark room it was hidden away in. This year there is a Christmas tree in our living room and it's filled with light and colorful decorations. It is a tall green plastic tree where tiny reindeer chase each other in a blink of red lights. There are gifts under it and a Christmas cake is on the table. For the first time ever, I baked a Christmas cake. I needed to. And under that tree we sat, me and my loved one, a family, beneath the lights, listening to the carols pouring their sweet music into our souls. Christmas is here, at last.
We all have stories to tell. Sometimes we bring them forth and sometimes we keep them buried. Here are my stories. I hope you will enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. 
