Building the Life my Childhood Imagined
When I was a little girl, Christmas wasn’t just a tradition in my family — it was a reminder that love, grace, gratitude, and giving were the pillars we lived by. We had the same traditions you’d find in most homes that celebrated the season: picking up the Christmas tree, mixing that sugary water concoction that somehow kept it green and soft all month long, hanging stockings, stringing lights, and — my favorite — setting up the Christmas village.
The village was my mom’s tradition, one we did together every year. We always started with the little house that looked just like our first home in Kenosha — a yellow bungalow with a wreath on the front door. Then we’d move down the street, placing each house one by one. Eventually we’d reach the tiny ice rink set just a stone’s throw from our real home. The village took shape just like our neighborhood: the park a few blocks over with kids building snowmen and sledding down hills, moms carrying bags of treasures destined for under the tree. And of course, no village was complete without the essentials — a hospital, a fire station and before knew it the cobblestone road gave way to town: the watchmaker, the candy shop, the little stores full of gifts and magic.
As a little girl, I used to imagine I was two inches tall, living right inside that village. It felt like it was calling to me gently tugging at my heartstrings. I wanted so badly to be one of those tiny figurines walking home after a long day of shopping for my kids.
Today, as I sit by the window in our new home on the first snowy day of the season, I look out across the street and see a row of houses — each one unique, each one showing hints of holiday cheer. Some sparkle with twinkling lights. Some are simple and serene with wreaths hung in quiet welcome. Others are softened by the fresh blanket of snow. Down the road sits the fire station, and just a short walk from there is the village of shops and restaurants.
Suddenly, I’m two inches tall again, living inside that tiny Christmas village I once helped my mom create.
My village found me. And I am endlessly grateful — content to live simply, right here, in this lovely little town I now get to call home.
May the spirit of the Christmas season follow you the whole year through.
With Love,
Heather