My life has changed a lot over the last six months in some subtle and some not-so-subtle ways, and I’ve honestly reached December in a much more disheveled state than I imagined I would finish out my first semester of college.
I feel a little lost, a little lonely, and genuinely the most out-of-control I have ever felt in my life. Everything is changing, and yet I cling to one thing I know will always be a constant in my life — Christmastime.
If you know me, you know that I wait for the holidays from Jan. 1 all the way through Halloween (yes, I start celebrating Christmas on Nov. 1). As soon as the clock strikes twelve, I smash my jack-o’-lantern and decorate my tree, even if this year it is a tiny pencil tree in my dorm.
I may sound a little crazy to some, but I don’t mind it because I know the joy that the season has always brought me, particularly through my Christmas traditions.
There are so many I hold close to my heart, so many memories I cherish above all others:
Making apple cider on Thanksgiving and doing karaoke with my cousins, that first warm sip of a chestnut praline latte at 4 a.m. on Black Friday before going out and scouting for Christmas gifts, the rewarding feeling of eating my special gingerbread bundts fresh from the oven, downing a tray of my Gea’s sour cream chicken and opening stockings with my loved ones, driving through multicolor light displays in the Antique Village of my hometown while blaring The Pretenders’ cover of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” watching Prep & Landing with my parents and brother, and celebrating my Christmas Eve birthday at every one of my family’s trillion parties.
In particular, however, there is one tradition that brings me the most joy: baking hundreds of cucidatti with my mom’s side of the family on our annual cookie day. Cucidatti are Sicilian fig cookies that my Mamaw, my great grandmother, loved to make around Christmastime, and though she passed away when I was young, we continue to get together every year to make them.
They are no easy task and have often exhausted us, but never has there been a cookie day without lots of laughter, Christmas karaoke, and an abundance of flour and multicolored sprinkles all over the kitchen. I cling so hard to this one tradition because it reminds me of a joy that was purely mine and purely innocent, of a time before the weight of the world became so heavy.
This is the joy I refuse to let go of, an image of a still-flour-covered little boy, exhausted from cookie day and yet wide awake, sitting alone before the incandescent light of the Christmas tree at midnight. Once every year, no matter how things have changed, I am him again.
Despite the hardship I’ve faced over the last few months, I look to these traditions and count my blessings. I look to Christmastime and smile knowing what is to come. With this in mind, I recognize that not everyone looks forward to Christmastime like I do. For many, it is not such a happy time. Instead, it is a time of grief, the end of what may feel like a wasted year and a reminder of distance from loved ones or perhaps from ourselves.
This Christmas season, I urge you to take these dark feelings and allow them to coexist with the bright ones. This is a time to celebrate, even if it may not entirely feel that way. It is a time to celebrate making it to the end of the year and to remember that a fresh-start is just around the corner, a time to make your own traditions.
It’s a time to go out and buy yourself something nice, to scream-sing “All I Want For Christmas Is You” in your car with the windows down, to drink hot cocoa and watch Christmas movies in your pajamas, to adorn your Christmas tree and your life with all of the bright things because you deserve them.
From the bottom of my heart, I hope you know that you deserve the joy of this season — have yourself a merry little Christmas!
This article is dedicated to my Mamaw, Sarah Denicola, along with my Gea and the rest of my family — thank you for making Christmastime so wonderful — I love you.
Riley Sanders is an 19-year-old biology major from Denham Springs, La.
