What Christmas is...

Christmas has always been a big deal for me, but I have a confession to make - I didn’t feel the Christmas Spirit too much in the last two years (2019 and 2020). I don’t know why and, in a way, I wasn’t even tempted to explore why. But now Christmas is back. It’s different, it feels different, but it’s here now and that makes me happy.

This year I chose to have a literary Christmas. I chose 24 short stories plus Dickens’s slightly longer ‘A Christmas Carol’. Each story had something different to reveal, and they all made me reflect on my own Christmas - what it means, how does it look, how did it change.

Just like Dickens, “I begin to consider, what do we all remember best upon the branches of the Christmas Tree of our own young Christmas days, by which we climbed to real life”.

My first recollection is Santa and receiving gifts - the most wonderful toys. I think about singing carols with my family and listening to stories about people some of whom I knew, some of whom I never met.

I remember Mami telling me about her childhood Christmas…

When Grandpa Sanyi was still with us, Christmas was the most beautiful holiday.

Preparations would start long before when Dad would butcher a pig, and so everything on our table at Christmas was made by himself: sausages, ham, greaves, rolled cabbages… Even the pickles were made by him.

Usually, on the 23rd, we would bake the sponge cake (or sweet bread - cozonac - pic for reference here). We would do many of them with nuts or poppy seeds. My Dad thought me that I have to knead the dough until “there are trickles from the girder”, that’s the only way the cakes will be fluffy and tasty.

On the 24th we would decorate the tree that Dad chose from the forest, we would wait for Santa Claus to bring us gifts and then we would go carolling. We were a big family, many aunts, uncles, cousins, we would go to everyone and then from each house, we would go to the next taking the host with us. It was wonderful! We would sing another carol at each door and it was as if the neighbours were competing to see who will have the most singers. You could hear carols on the streets all night, sang beautifully by voices young and old.

We would reach my mum’s oldest sister, in the Garlic Valley, at around 3 or 4 in the morning. We would stand in front of the windows, with snow up to our knees, and sing a carol. The Garlic Valley rang with our voices, and the loudest was Grandpa Sanyi’s. In some carols, I can still hear his voice.

I hope it’s ok.

T

(I left Mami’s signature there on purpose. Of course, it’s okay, it’s honest, Mami, and it’s from the heart!)

This was Grandpa Sanyi’s favourite Christmas song, whom I only know through the most beautiful stories.

It’s in Hungarian so I translated it for you:

The sky’s glorious king touched down,

Among us on festive dawn,

He lays in a manger wearing ragged clothes,

He who created heavens.

May you be blessed, saint Christmas,

For you brought the skies on earth,

This is how the darkness of sin will pass,

Because you shall bring salvation.

Listen to this song, take a deep breath, and then move on to the next bit.

I was almost a pre-teen when I found out that Santa wasn’t real. I was sad. I was angry. I felt lied to, betrayed. I truly believed in this good old man who brings gifts. Looking back, I think that behind all that disappointment, there was another feeling. My parents were not always in the best financial position, but they always tried their best for all holidays, for my birthday, for everything. I think that behind all that disappointment, there was love. A love I didn’t understand and I didn’t know how to act on. I still don’t really know, if I’m truly honest.

After that, I started contributing to my parents’ gifts too with my pocket money. 50-50. I also became Chief Wrapper :)))) - we had loads of shoeboxes at home and I made them nice and festive. Christmas became about giving too.

When I became a teenager, I didn’t want to be friends with my parents. A typical story. But, just like in those cheesy films, on Christmas, I was happy to take pics with them. I drank mulled wine while decorating the tree with Tati. I couldn’t wait to go out carolling with my family and then with my friends too. Christmas was a time of togetherness, of peace.

Perhaps the main reason I was disconnected from the holiday spirit for a couple of years was that all of those different types of Christmasses co-existed in my head. I didn’t let them blend. Receiving, giving, or togetherness mean many different things. Perhaps I was expecting Christmas to feel different as a young adult. And it does feel different, but yet somehow familiar. It’s a sum of all the Christmases that have been and of all of those yet to come.

I wish for you to take a trip tonight, just like Scrooge. Past - Present - Future. And think about them all with an open heart. But if this would be too painful, I understand. In that case, I hope you’ll find whatever it is that your soul needs.

May your days be merry and bright!