Courtesy photo Kayla Wikaryasz is seen sitting in a laundry basket and is wearing a Santa hat and reindeer antlers. This photo was taken 20 years ago.

ALPENA — To my parents’ dismay, and the hard work they put into giving my brother and I nice gifts over the years, there are only a handful of memorable gifts over the years that I still remember unwrapping at 27 years old.

However, what I do remember the most about Christmas are all the little memories that add up to a magical, eternal string of icy mornings, holiday parties, and gift giving. Christmas as a child was a mixture of excitement, anticipation, magic, and worry. Christmas is a collection of things — no gift can summarize what Christmas was, and is, to a lil’ American girl who was once full of wonder and Christmas spirit.

Growing up, my mother taught me that the Christmas season is about giving more than receiving — a somewhat biblical teaching in light of the holiness vibe that is revered this time of year. I recognized, then and now, that my parents worked incredibly hard for what presents they procured for my brother and I. I understood this from the long hours they worked and the lack of “take-out food” upon the table.

What I remember most is spending hours upon hours in the kitchen baking and making Christmas goodies to share with family and friends. I remember watching the old Rankin/Bass Christmas specials in my living room, color-coding my Christmas list so Gram knew the priority in which presents should be bought, and listening to the rustling of my mother creating Christmas arrangements for my teachers, godparents, and a smattering of other relatives.

At some point before Christmas, we’d drive around in the dark delivering our goods while listening to Christmas music on the radio. The recipients of our gifts were always surprised and delighted. I wish I had appreciated the power of these exchanges more when I was a child.

Beyond the act of giving, there are specific tastes, sounds, and imaginings that overpower my fading memory of gifts over the years. In that sense, you could say I am blessed because I have had so many wonderful holiday seasons that the presents are irrelevant (sorry Mom and Dad).

A ubiquitously forgotten memory for my peers, for example, is the last day of school before winter break. This day is often referred to as “a fever dream” for many people my age that went through elementary school in the early 2000s. We were all too giddy about the looming arrival of Santa Claus to file away solid memories of the classroom-Christmas parties that I’m sure our teachers spent many hours planning.

In many cases, the small gifts exchanged over the years at these parties, the ample number of treats, and a Christmas movie playing in the background, has faded into a string of ephemeral memories for all of us. I don’t think any of my peers can say, “Yes, I remember that one Christmas party at Long Rapids Elementary in 2006.”

I do, however, explicitly remember acting out scenes from Rankin/Bass’ “Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer,” as Rudolph or Clarice, at home as a small child. My mother says that starting in September, I’d dig out my reindeer antlers, and Santa hat, and ask her to paint my nose with red lipstick, for Rudolph, or with black eyeliner, for Clarice. Then I’d watch Christmas movies till January. When I was in character, I told my mother I could only eat reindeer food: carrots and broccoli.

From my assumption, and based on my childhood experiences (such as pretending to be Christmas-movie characters), Christmas is more of an appreciation rather than an object. Therefore, cataloging presents given to me over the years would be a fruitless task. The essence of Christmas isn’t something that you can put down onto paper, nor is it something that can be reported upon. Christmas is an aura and it is a collection of experiences, as it was when I was a child and as it shall be forever and ever after I am dead.

Kayla Wikaryasz can be reached at 989-358-5688 or kwikaryasz@TheAlpenaNews.com.