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My comforts of Christmas include memories

It was comforting to know our Christmas tree was a family affair.
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It didn’t matter what decade we were in; we could count on multiple levels of our home experiencing the maximum of decking the halls and we loved every bit of it.

When we choose to reminisce on comforts of Christmas, my mind rushes instantly to memorable moments over the years. And, it was that simple. That’s where I found my comforts of Christmas.

As a kid, I remember waiting until December before a single sign of Christmas appeared in our house other than the Sears Wish Book.

I fondly remember the laughter and creativity that came out of that one night sitting with my mom and my three sisters to meticulously handwrite each Christmas card our family would be sending out. We would share the activities that had happened within our family that year and there was certainly a hearty laugh or two coming out of mishaps in spelling, writing mistakes or recounting an event.

It was comforting to know our Christmas tree was a family affair. We would head to the Kinsmen tree lot and either meet Dad, who was there volunteering, or drive to the lot with him so we could pick out our tree together. The anticipation of watching that cold pile of branches, the pine scent wafting through the house, evolve in our living room into the live tree we dreamed of, was part of the experience.

The memory of these events is so vivid I can still smell the fresh-baked cookies or taste the homemade Nanaimo bar end pieces that didn’t cut out as perfectly as Mom would have wanted. These were treats we experienced only at Christmas time so we savoured every bite. Once I became a mom, my mom would travel to Unity to help our kids bake and decorate Christmas cookies for their classmates, teammates, Christmas bake sales and themselves. Watching our small children lick more icing off the knives and spoons than ever made it onto the cookies provided as much entertainment as the decorating party.

My mom’s decorating wizardry was second to none. She loved the glitter of the 1970s and was sure to disperse it generously all over our main floor and rumpus room. Icicles covered our tree, and carpet. It didn’t matter what decade we were in; we could count on multiple levels of our home experiencing the maximum of decking the halls and we loved every bit of it.

The smell of the tree was heavenly and we savoured that deep pine scent as we giggled, sharing stories, while we decorated together. The year mom hand-painted our entire picture window as the nativity scene will never be forgotten. We came home for lunch as we always did and instead of slurping down our soup and watching the Flintstones we spend the entire break marvelling at her masterpiece; certain it would be the envy of all of our friends and neighbours.

Late-night shopping, set up in our small town just for Christmas, was something we looked forward to with wide-eyed wonder and plenty of excitement. Other than the glossy pages of the Sears Wish Book, we never looked any further than our own town for Christmas shopping. We all got dressed up for this special occasion and didn’t once complain we were cold or tired, as we were too busy revelling in the excitement of all the people in the downtown core.

It was mesmerizing hearing Christmas music playing everywhere, people were hustling and bustling about just as we were and everyone was joyful passing on their Christmas spirit in greetings. And, as kids, we wanted to not only go into every store and see their Christmas wares but we wanted to check out their elaborate window displays and decorations. It was equally exciting to return home after shopping, as it always included a cup of mom’s homemade hot chocolate and a wide variety of fresh cookies to choose from. Those were the nights we definitely went to sleep with visions of sugar plums dancing in our heads.

Watching Christmas specials on the television as a family is another comforting memory. There are so many favourites, but the show itself was only half of the experience as we excitedly gathered together with our favourite blanket, and fresh-popped popcorn, to huddle together watching these television classics.

Dozens and dozens of other special moments roll through my heart and my head as I write this piece. It was hard to narrow it done to a select few.

I have told our kids often over the years that while my mom, their grandma, created the Christmas magic each year that we loved and cherished there were infinite memorable experiences with my maternal grandma. Grandma Julia radiated comfort at any time of the year, but never more so than at Christmas time. It was tradition that either we travelled to their place or they would take turns coming to ours. Her home, her loving personality and all of the extra steps she took to create Christmas for us breathed comfort. Her home was warm, inviting and full of favourite Christmas traditions, each effort steeped in not only the love of creating it but showcasing the love she had for her family.

When looking for something comforting this Christmas, I looked no further than my own memory bank. It reminded me to gaze through old photo albums that took me back to all of these memorable times that provided comfort then and comfort still. I am comforted because I know:

“The kind of love that was so intently demonstrated at Christmas is truly amazing and life changing.” ‑‑ Jason C. Dukes

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