Unlike most of you, I grew up without a Christmas tree or the usual festive gifts under the tree. As a kid my mom was used to celebrating Santa Lucia on December 13, an event filled with Swedish traditions, adorning the kitchen table with toys and treats that kept me buzzing with excitement all night.
Despite this, I couldn’t help but envy the picture-perfect Christmas scenes I made up in my. mind, in other families, imagining their joy and harmony on that special day.
Leaving Italy as a student and spending most of my life away from home, I found myself counting the number of Christmas’s eves spent traveling on planes, trains, or taxis to join different families. Surprisingly, I found solace in what I termed “Unfailing Christmas Eve.”
Staring out from car, train, bus, or plane windows, I saw dormant cities devoid of their usual hustle and bustle, allowing me to connect with a genuine sense of inner joy and actual fulfillment of the cities themselves.
One unforgettable “Unfailing Christmas Eve” memory stands out. It was on a night train journey from Paris to Milano during my student days. As the train arrived in the early hours of Christmas Day, I pulled up the window blind to see my father rushing towards me amidst a blanket of fresh snow.
My father never dressed for the season, always in his year-round suit and low leather shoes. The stark contrast of him dashing in the twilight through the snow-covered platform remains etched as one of my most cherished “Unfailing Christmas Eve .”
