A small travel story:
Early in our marriage, my husband and I spent Christmas with his parents at their home in a small town outside of New York City. This was the first time I had not spent the holiday with my family and I had mixed emotions about this. On the one hand, I was sad not to be with my family but on the other hand, I was excited to spend time in the Big Apple, which I hadn’t seen much of.
Our visit was full of parties and other activities, as my in-laws were always busy and socially engaged. Everything about these events seemed glamorous to my young, unsophisticated self.
On Christmas Eve we went to the evening service at their church in the city. Never before had I sat in a church with more than 2,000 people and never before had I experienced a holiday service with music that beautiful. The traditional music felt more meaningful and powerful when sung by so many people from all walks of life.
On Christmas Day, we were back in Manhattan again, this time to attend a holiday show. It was delightful, heartwarming, festive, and so on. My heart was full of joy when it was over.
And then, when we came outside the theater, the world was a snow globe, with perfect gentle flakes falling. Just enough snow to be pretty but not enough to cause problems. Holiday lights twinkled. Street musicians played holiday music. Vendors sold roasted chestnuts. People were walking around, smiling, and laughing.
It was absolutely magical and remains one of my fondest Christmas memories.
Tell me one of your favorite holiday stories.
My mom dancing to Cuban Christmas music in our living room before Christmas Eve Nochebuena dinner, a Cuban traditional meal.
Oh that's lovely.