The Last Christmas: A Family Story About Change
- C.M. Pereida
- Dec 24, 2025
- 6 min read
Just about everyone carries around an idea of what Christmas should look like — or at least what it looks like when it’s done “properly.” For most of us, that picture is stitched together from two things: what Christmas felt like when we were kids, and what we always wished it could be.
For me, Christmas as a child was magic. Not the Hallmark kind — the real kind, the kind that smells like food and cousins and cold air and anticipation. My cousins Michelle, Angela, and Andrea were all ways there too. They were an Army family, always living somewhere new, so every Christmas felt like a reunion.
Those Christmases were full of noise and chocolate milk and actual Christmas carols — yes, we really sang them. My father would read The Night Before Christmas on Christmas Eve while we all sat together, and even then it felt surreal, like something out of a movie. My mother always made a big deal out of the holiday. The food, the decorations, the whole spread — she went all in.
Christmas morning was its own kind of wonder. We didn’t open gifts on Christmas Eve. We waited. The adults would be drinking, music playing, kids running around the tree like caffeinated elves, and we’d all stay up way too late just so we could wake up way too early. And somehow — I still don’t know how — when we woke up, the house had twice as many decorations as it did the night before. Candy laid out. Presents everywhere. So many presents.
Now, technically speaking, we were probably upper‑lower class or lower‑middle class, depending on how you measure it. But compared to the people around us, we were doing pretty well, and our Christmases reflected that. They felt abundant.
But time moves. Nothing lasts forever. We all grew up, and Christmas as a holiday shifted. That was maybe 35 years ago. Traditions have multiplied since then, but the ones from back then — the ones that shaped me — were simple and consistent.
And then came The Last Christmas.
I don’t mean the last Christmas on the calendar. I mean the last Christmas of childhood — the last time the tradition happened the way it always had, without any of us realizing it was the end.
I must’ve been eight or nine. That year, the cousins didn’t come. We didn’t go to them. It was just the four of us — my mother, my father, my sister, and me. I remember being the only one who still wanted to sing Christmas carols or read The Night Before Christmas. I insisted on it. That story was one of my favorites then, and honestly, it still is.
We didn’t put out cookies that year. My mom said, “You know, sometimes Santa doesn’t want cookies. Everybody gives him cookies. Let’s put something else out.” So we put out popcorn and something else I can’t even remember now. Looking back, of course, she just didn’t want to have to throw away cookies. But we still read the story. We still sang a few carols. We still tried to make it feel like all the years before.
And then… that was it.
After that, everything changed. We moved. My father still went all out with gifts — he still does, honestly — but the traditions were different. My mother still cooked a big meal, just with no big theme. No elaborate plans. Just a meal.
The next Christmas was in Arizona. The one after that was in Texas. And from there, life did what life does: it scattered us. I grew into my own personality and my sister did the same. My parents had their own struggles. A decade or two passed. We all built our own families, our own lives, our own ways of celebrating.
I stopped celebrating Christmas altogether unless I was visiting someone. My mother took in my sister’s kids and built new traditions with them. My father remarried and created his own version of the holiday. Everyone drifted into their own rhythm.
And then the pandemic hit, and the whole world flipped upside down. Traditions everywhere got shaken loose. People reinvented things out of necessity, boredom, or survival.
For us, ever since 2020, Christmas dinner has been homemade enchiladas instead of “second Thanksgiving.” And let me tell you — the prep is just as intense, especially when everything is from scratch. But being from Central California, homemade enchiladas and refried beans feel like a proper holiday meal anyway. Honestly, they taste better.
So whatever your new Christmas ritual looks like — whether it’s loud or quiet, traditional or improvised, full of people or just you and a plate of something warm — I hope it brings you comfort.
Childhood Christmases Felt Like a Storybook
When we were kids, Christmas was a sensory experience. The cold air outside made the warmth inside feel even cozier. The smell of pine from the tree mixed with the scent of baked goods filled the house. The sound of laughter and carols created a soundtrack that still echoes in my mind.
What made those Christmases special?
Family reunions: Cousins and relatives gathered from different places, making the holiday feel like a rare and precious event.
Simple traditions: Singing carols together, reading stories, and waiting patiently for Christmas morning.
Anticipation and surprise: The magic of waking up to a house transformed overnight, with gifts and decorations seemingly appearing by themselves.
These moments created a sense of belonging and wonder that felt larger than life.
Adult Christmases Bring New Challenges and Realities
As adults, Christmas changes. The magic doesn’t disappear, but it often gets buried under responsibilities and expectations.
Busy schedules: Work, family obligations, and social commitments can make the season feel rushed.
Financial pressures: Buying gifts and hosting celebrations can strain budgets.
Changing family dynamics: Relatives move away, relationships shift, and some traditions fade or evolve.
Technology and distractions: Screens and devices compete for attention, sometimes pulling us away from the moment.
The joy of Christmas can feel different — quieter, more reflective, or even stressful.
Finding Meaning in Modern Christmas Traditions
Even though adult Christmases are different, they can still be meaningful. Many people create new traditions that fit their current lives.
Simplifying celebrations: Focusing on quality time rather than quantity of gifts.
Creating new rituals: Cooking a special meal, volunteering, or watching a favorite holiday movie.
Connecting with loved ones: Making an effort to reach out, even if it’s just a phone call or video chat.
Mindful giving: Choosing gifts that have personal meaning or supporting causes that matter.
These approaches help keep the spirit of Christmas alive in a way that feels authentic.
The warmth of a decorated home captures the evolving spirit of Christmas from childhood to adulthood.
The Last Christmas We Remember and the Next One We Create
The last Christmas we remember from childhood often feels like a perfect snapshot in time. It holds a special place in our hearts because it was unburdened by adult concerns. But that doesn’t mean the Christmases we celebrate now are any less valuable.
Each year offers a chance to blend the joy of the past with the realities of the present. We can honor old traditions while embracing new ones. We can find magic not just in gifts or decorations, but in moments of connection, gratitude, and kindness.
Embracing the Change
The transition from childhood Christmases to adult celebrations is natural. It reflects growth, change, and the different seasons of life. Instead of longing for the past, we can appreciate how Christmas evolves with us.
Remember the feelings, not just the events: The warmth, excitement, and togetherness can be recreated in new ways.
Be gentle with yourself and others: Everyone experiences the holidays differently.
Focus on what matters most: Love, connection, and shared memories.
Christmas will always carry a special kind of magic. It may look different now, but it still has the power to bring joy and meaning. The last Christmas of childhood is a cherished memory, but the Christmases we create as adults hold their own kind of wonder.
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