by Megan Monahan – Staff Writer
What is the first thing that pops into your mind when you think about Christmas morning? Some of you are thinking about the brightly colored Christmas tree sitting in your living room lit up with lights. Others are thinking about opening presents that were sitting there waiting under the tree. Others simply don’t know because they don’t celebrate Christmas. For me the first thing that comes to my mind when I think of Christmas morning is the fact that I have two of them.
The joys of Christmas morning for me include; waking up in warm flannel pajamas and running into my mom’s room, jumping on her bed, and pulling her up with an enticing cup of coffee so that we could go downstairs to open presents. Or, in my case, wait until my dad came over to open them with us. Picture this: a firm knock on the door causing a small child to catapult over the side of the couch and around the corner to fling open the door to see there smiling father looking down on them. The waiting and surveying over a warm cup of hot chocolate brought me more joy than opening the presents themselves because I knew that the minute that doorbell rang it would be like we were our own small family again.
Christmas time was always sacred to me when I was a small child and quite frankly still is. The holiday season to me represents the outward expression of joy, love, and family. Three things that my parents made sure that I always experienced. The Christmas I was 12 was the first Christmas ever where I didn’t see my dad. My mom and I went and visited my Uncle in Eastern Washington and no matter how hard I tried, no matter how hard we all did it just didn’t feel like Christmas without him. That is the year I really realized what Christmas was about for me. It wasn’t about the giving or receiving of presents, the decorations, or even the delicious treats that you munch on. The holidays are about spending as much time with you family and telling them how much they mean to you.