I look upon Christmases past with such sentiment. Christmas eve I would spend dinner out with my family and going to midnight mass with my friends. On Christmas day, we would open presents, and my father would always have such a wonderful and thoughtful surprise awaiting me. My father loved to give presents to us, he would search out for just the perfect thing we could have hoped for. Even when he was declining in health, he always made us feel special. It didn't matter the monetary value, it was his consideration of you. Then, we would head to my grandmothers' house. When I was little, we celebrated in her apartment in Brooklyn. After my grandfather passed away, we would trek to New Jersey. But one thing was always constant, no matter where we were, there were tons of family memebers. My dad's aunts and uncles, my cousins, and quite often our boyfriends and girlfriends (many later became spouses). There were 12 cousins, and we were really close. My best memories are shared with them. Always taking center stage was the food. As true to our Italian roots, we ate all day long. There were at least 4 courses (appetizers, pasta, meat, and desert) and I still make some of the favorites (stuffed mushrooms and artichokes). Lots of people and lots of food. But one of the most poignant memory I have was one Christmas evening in Brooklyn, looking out my grandparent's 3rd floor apartment window, seeing the soft snowfakes fall. It made it magical.
