The phrase “the holiday season” can evoke a wide range of images and memories. From horror movies to trick-or-treating, turkey and parades to the smell of fresh pine needles and heaps of snow piled on the ground, there are infinite possibilities. For me, there is one word that best delineates the magical months of October, November and December: nostalgia.
Every year, as October comes to a close and November begins, I start to reflect on my childhood, and everything around me seems to spark recollections. I remember jumping in the freshly raked piles of crunchy, colorful leaves in a Chicago park, winding my way through the hilly maze of a Californian neighborhood in pursuit of candy and packing my suitcase before boarding an airplane bound for Sioux Falls for Thanksgiving. There, my younger sister and I would run races around our grandparents’ houses, fill our stomachs with home-cooked meals and catch up on all the hugs we had not been able to receive over the last six months.
For many people, Halloween is the best night of the year. For me, Halloween marks the coming of the more enjoyable holidays. As families put out their jack-o’-lanterns and skeletons, I begin to anticipate the season of soups, snowy days and hot chocolate.
As we enter December, the final month of the year, I find myself reminiscing about the past year. I go through old photo albums and text messages. As we put up our “memory tree,” which is full of old, handmade ornaments all carrying some sentimental value, I constantly hear the phrase “Oh, remember when…?” I reflect on old traditions and habits, determining which ones to bring with me into the new year and which are better left behind.
While the holidays are for reflecting on the recent past, it is also for reminiscing on the more distant. Everywhere you turn, you can spot something that sends you back into a long-lost memory, the details of which may be potentially forgotten but the sense of warmth and home still there.
