As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize my mom was the true magic of Christmas.
Throughout my childhood, she was the heart and soul of every holiday season, creating an atmosphere filled with warmth, joy, and enchantment. Every December, she transformed our home from top to bottom into a whimsical holiday wonderland. With a twinkle in her eye and love in her heart, she waved her wand, spreading magic to every inch of our home—from the festive decorations, delicious food, to the beloved Christmas tunes playing on the stereo.
Tables and cabinets displayed miniature Christmas villages and figurines, festive and aglow with holiday spirit. The delicate lights of the tree twinkled in the front room, casting a soft glow across the walls and floor. A warm fire crackled in the fireplace as the stockings hung empty above, waiting to be filled with treats from Santa Claus. Delicious aromas wafted from the kitchen, inviting us to a beautiful dinner table, decorated with glowing candles and special Christmas plates that were only brought out this time of year.
Afterward, with hot cocoa in hand, we gathered as a family around the television to watch our favorite Scrooge movie (the one starring George C. Scott). Then, when the evening drew to a close, my brother, sister, and I would head to bed, bursting with excitement for the big guy to finally make his appearance. We’d lie awake for what seemed like hours, listening for reindeer hooves on the roof and wondering if Santa made it to all the houses in time.
As dawn broke on Christmas morning, we jumped out of bed in anticipation, eager to see the gifts under the tree. We’d wake Mom and Dad, asking them to lead the way downstairs. Mom smiled from ear to ear as she watched us unwrap our presents, the room filling with oohs and aahs as we delighted in our new treasures.
Christmas in our home was a wondrous time because Mom made it so. The joy and wonder we experienced—it happened because of her. She was the true magic behind it all. It was a special time of year we always looked forward to, and it is not lost on me how fortunate I was to have this experience; to have a loving mom who wanted the best for her children, who created lasting holiday memories for her family. Her attention to every detail, her thoughtful touches, and the traditions she passed down made Christmas something to be remembered and cherished.
Now, as I celebrate the holidays without her, I find myself missing my mom more than ever. Her absence is felt deeply, especially during the season she made so special. While I can no longer share new holiday experiences with her, I strive to carry her beautiful spirit and the feelings of comfort and wonder she created into my own home. This is my way of making sure she is always with us, of spreading her traditions and keeping her love alive, so that someday my son may do the same for his family.
I am forever grateful to my mom for giving me these magical Christmas memories that I carry with me always. I hope in some way she can feel that gratitude, and I hope she knows what a beautiful, lasting impact she made—and continues to make—on my life and on those around me. Her legacy of love, joy, and giving will live on in our hearts forever.
Originally published on the author’s blog
by Kelli Bachara 
by Jilliana Dickerson 
by Jenny Albers 
by Kristie Reitz 
