By Sophia Robertson

I will never forget the Christmases I experienced in my childhood home. Seated at the kitchen counter on Christmas Eve, flour would cover the granite as my brother and I sprawled out our cookie cutters onto the table, eagerly picking out our favorites and using them to cut our cookie dough into reindeer, stars, and other holiday symbols. 

Baking sugar cookies always took place after my family’s trip to church where, year after year, we watched volunteers play out the story of Jesus’ birth. I’d learn why we celebrate the holiday before going home to the excitement of Christmas Eve festivities: baking cookies, wrapping presents, and reading “The Night Before Christmas.”

When I awoke on Christmas morning, everyone would have to wake up with me, no matter the time. After all, there were presents that absolutely had to be opened, and right away! One by one, each of my family members would open a gift, starting with the stocking stuffers, as the scent of homemade cinnamon rolls began to permeate each room in our house. We would draw the process of opening presents out as long as possible because, after all, a day like this only happens once a year.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas morning, hundreds of cookies would emerge from the oven in my house, freshly baked and ready to be delivered to friends across my hometown. From chocolate peppermint to lemon cookies with a sugary glaze, my family would experiment with different recipes. As we baked, we’d play Christmas music in the background, and by this time of year the house was, most certainly, already decorated to the extreme: a minimum of two Christmas trees, lights hanging wherever possible, and countless candles placed strategically throughout the house.

The holiday movies, too, were one of the most exciting parts of the season. My mom always insisted on watching It’s a Wonderful Life, and I’d complain each year, without fail, about it being too sad. Instead, I’d convince us to watch Elf for the twentieth time, but in reality, it didn’t matter what we watched. What mattered was the fact that we watched it together, huddled under blankets as our fireplace warmed the house. If we were lucky, a light layer of snow could be seen covering the streets outside.

Never in my life had I experienced a joy so great as the joy I felt at Christmastime. These traditions are ingrained in my memory, and although Christmas isn’t the same as it was when I was a kid, I get to look back on these memories even more fondly. 

Today, Christmas holds a bit of a different meaning. Yes, it’s about the religious significance, and yes, it’s still about the Christmas cookies, gifts, and other treats, but there’s more to it now. It’s not just about the fun traditions. Rather, it’s one of the rare times during the year when my family can come together. With my mom at home, my brother in graduate school 500 miles away, and myself here at NC State, there aren’t many times during the year when we get to be together. 

Although my childhood excitement towards the holiday has begun to fade, Christmas brings me a sense of togetherness and love for my family and friends that’s much more meaningful than the cookies and presents could ever be.