My Christmas was not meaningful but it was memorable – for all the wrong reasons. My mother said, “Don’t worry, we’ll be together next year.” I hope she’s right.

I hadn’t realized that exercise had become my Christmas Day habit, a way of soothing my nerves and giving me a chance to reflect on the things I am grateful for.

On Christmas Day, my fever still hadn’t broken, so I stayed in the hotel while my mom and grandma went to join the rest of our family. I ordered some soup and faded in and out of sleep.

At Christmas, there's joy and magic. But sadness and loss are present, too. Losing my Aunt Amy on Christmas Day shattered my innocence and the sense of safety that children are lucky to have.

On Christmas Day, 1950, my father’s younger brother died in his lap. A week or two before, 8-year-old P.J. had stepped on a rusted can. This was rural Ireland before the good years.

In 2019, after relapsing multiple times, I stopped drinking. I was discharged and decided to treat Christmas Day as any other day, not to be pressured. I didn't have the urge to drink, and it was ...

I dusted off my Christmas vinyl albums and dug out from my basement my seasonal CDs and tried to bring some Christmas cheer into the pall of ... unsurprisingly is "If Every Day Was Like Christmas").

Yan was born on Christmas day. Paola Dyboski-Bryant Celebrating Yan's birthday. The Christmas of 2018 made me realize that my family being together is the most special gift that anybody could ask for.