A New Year’s miracle
Editor’s Note: As part of a practicum assignment, students were asked to reflect on their favorite Christmas memories. This series, written in a more personal style, captures the unique moments and traditions that make the holiday season special.
Christmas is a time to gather all family members together, remember the miracle of Jesus Christ’s birth, and spend time skiing and sledding.
Did I mention the word “presents”? Showing love through all the things we buy for our close ones can be tiring, yet so rewarding and definitely worth it in the end.
In Russia, New Year’s is actually bigger than Christmas, and the whole nation celebrates together once 12 hits. Not everyone in the country does it at the same time, given the 11 time zones, but the spirit is the same in any city.
It takes the whole day of the 31st to cook a lot of food, dozens of salads, and prepare everything for the big celebration. The stores are packed, and people are congratulating each other, unusually smiling on the streets and the bus.
In the middle of all this chaos, there is a constant – having to help your family cook, clean, run to the store, and call all the relatives near and far. Although tiring and exhausting, all the preparation pays off once the whole family and a bunch of friends sit down at the table together, beaming with happiness and being in an inexplicable spirit of the New Year.
People reconcile, enemies become friends, and friendship becomes love, all in the feeling of something
new, fresh, and better. A little after the president’s speech on the TV, it’s better to close the ears of children and pets – fireworks will start to go off in every bit of the city, making people smile and the fire department clutch their heads in horror.
It is a fun and exciting night, and no sleep is present until the next morning. Leftover salads and dishes are the best when one wakes up at 3 pm the next day, still full of energy and joy.
Santa Claus doesn’t come to Russia, and Father Frost takes his place with his granddaughter, Snow Girl. They bring the presents, come to kindergartens and schools, and consider the letters with wishes from little boys and girls all over the country. Father Frost is skinnier than Santa Claus, and now I understand why. Our diets are much different.
Because New Year’s is a much bigger holiday in my country, I have more memories connected with it than Christmas. While we celebrate Christmas, it is usually a quiet family gathering, unlike the unifying and bustling 31st of December.
One of the earlier memories of New Year’s I have is when I celebrated with my parents as a child, and everything seemed even bigger, louder, and more shiny.
One year, after we ate and watched the fireworks, my mom and dad told me to hide with them behind the sliding doors we had in our apartment. I remember my parents standing there with me, although my memory might have been altered after all these years.
In any case, I remember hearing footsteps and, peaking through the doors, I saw smoke.
I ran out to see what had happened, but no one was there besides me, my parents, and gifts that hadn’t been under the tree before. I am convinced that it was a miracle, although my parents tell me that they did it.
