Culturess writers on their favorite Christmas moments

ROME, ITALY – DECEMBER 07: A general view of Christmas Lights At Bvlgari Boutique Rome on December 7, 2017 in Rome, Italy. (Photo by Ernesto S. Ruscio/Getty Images for Bvlgari)

Christina Roberts

Christmases in my household growing up always had a set schedule. Christmas Eve: Dad’s side of the family; Christmas morning: just us (Mom, Dad, me, my two brothers); Christmas afternoon: my mom’s side of the family.

This schedule never wavered, until 2004 when I was 14. My dad had had a successful kidney transplant in early November, and because he was on immunosuppressants (and it being barely a month after the procedure), we barred any visitors or trips. It was the first time I remember staying in my pajamas all day and not being sick.

Mom cooked breakfast, something we usually didn’t have time for. We opened presents at a leisurely pace rather than the frantic “we have to leave in an hour to go to Grandma’s” pace.

And the presents were top-notch. We splurged on my dad and got him an XM Radio, complete with a boom box and an antenna so he could set it up in the basement by his computer and recording studio to listen.

My brothers bought me a box of Magic: the Gathering’s Unhinged, their newest set at the time. They pulled their own four boxes out of hiding. “We bought a case of this when it came out and couldn’t open it until today!” they said (the other box was gifted to our next-door neighbors, who also played).

The entire Christmas Day confined itself to our family room, movies playing on the television as we cracked into our Unhinged boxes, sorted cards, tested out the new XM Radio, and just enjoyed the time together.