How long is Christmas break in the USA

 How long is Christmas break in the USA

When I was growing up Christmas was all-consuming. During my childhood, there was no way I could leave the house without my family enjoying this wonderful festival. Being a Christmas baby, I knew that everyone except my grandpa really enjoyed it, so in my mind, I’d try to make my family even more satisfied.

Traditionally this Christmas eve was its own occasion. Christmas Day was my day to shine. I’d go to church to worship God with my family.

Afterwards was when my grandpa and granny would be at it’s finest. Although my brother and I thought it was amazing for grandpa and granny to meet up, we weren’t always happy with what they did, especially “sweet potato” chocolate pudding. They’d eat it every night until I was grown up. It was something my granny would do, although I did think it was weird sometimes, especially when it came to congee for breakfast.

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Christmas would be like a dance from my childhood. Not only was I obsessed with Christmas, but I was dressed to the nines. I would paint my hair red, but still, trim it so that no bits of dust and hair stick was floating around my head. My long nails were also painted red which left my hands constantly covered in red hot glue on Christmas morning. A-

How long is Christmas break in the USA

But definitely have nice legs. Not to mention I’d be sent a classic Christmas scented candle by my grandpa. Not only that, but I’d paint the house to the raison d’etre of Christmas. My cousins and I would go for our stepdad who lived in different towns to attend bachelorette party “events”.

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• The big thing, however, was my sweet potatoes. I adore them even now, but everyone thinks that they’re super tasty. I was never particular with them, however, because my grandpa would bake them over 50 times, each cake I would bake would be little more than fluffy, melt in your mouth crisp shortcakes, but I’d never get excited.

• At that age, my mother and granny started giving me these cute aprons made from cotton squares. Like my mother has, because of her breast cancer, I’m sure I had a mutation in my organ that would tell her that she couldn’t wear my mother’s glasses and my silver i-beams necklace, instead, I’d end up wearing the aprons. Inside they are all emblazoned with my mother’s name.

• Since then I wore my aprons a lot of times since my mother’s death. I love my dad’s blue denim summer coat which I wore with lots of jeans, but my love most was my mother’s aprons. A- She always thought they were really cool. I’ve had a handful of reddish-haired granny’s aprons. The way they said “I LOVE YOU” gave me smiles every day. I felt an emotion that was completely different from my mother’s cutesy dresses. To me, it felt nice, genuine, genteel, and very warm. I felt loved and not because I was kind.

I wore this one on a few days throughout the summer, it was perfect because I could show it off and was perfectly matched with everything we had on. After her death, my granny travelled to a birthday party for my stepdad. She also baked cookies and pies on her day off to all my niece’s and nephews’ birthday parties.

This is what Christmas would have been like if her health hadn’t gotten worse and I’d had her for my whole life, however, that’s not how the story ends.

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Yes, although my parents found out at different stages of their lives, they still had fun with a few boys, but this is all I had with each until that person found out. So I ended up just discovering who it was who was right for me. That’s, in fact, the only kind of Christmas I have. Christmas mornings were spent reading the newspaper, sitting on the porch outside my house to listen to the radio, eating leftover “special” goodies, and writing my little journals. Christmas and my granddad became the centre of my attention, to be honest.

We would have a lot of scrapbooks around the house, each page kept a picture of one thing special on there, making sure to save all my favourite Christmas mince pies. Christmas mornings, however, were filled with a lot of laughter, creativity and joy. Our special moments were only meant to end during that time. My best friend, jokingly dubbed as Grandma, who I love dearly, would always be excited to visit us after Christmas to find presents at the door.