This post was originally published last year on Rock On Mommies.
When I think back on my childhood Christmases I have to say that, in my memory? They were perfect; filled with twinkling lights, beautiful music, yummy food and thousands of hugs. The other day I was having lunch with some of the other
Rock On Mommies, and we went around the table sharing our favorite childhood holiday gifts. I was shocked to discover that, although I can remember the way my Great-Aunt Rosie smelled (Giorgio) and I can remember my cousins playing “Silent Night” on their clarinets (shrill, but charming) I can’t really remember my
presents very much.
That was really eye-opening. Especially when I think of the hours I’ve spent agonizing over getting just the right gifts for my family and friends. I have actually lost sleep. Over the presents. Oh.
Then there’s all the hours making sure everyone arrives on time and that everything falls into place just so. Because I want the holiday to be perfect-just like I remember, right? But when I really looked at my memories (and the photos) I was shocked again to realize that what made those memories so warm and fuzzy for me was, in fact, all the imperfections.