Musing

I was contemplating writing something about the end of year festivities of my childhood but then other things (namely a hoopla or whatever memes are called nowadays; whatever they are, I hate them) hit me (my alter ego to be exact) on a similar theme. I'm not copy/pasting what I had written but can still write a few words about this theme.

Well, religious festivities were not officially holidays in the country of my childhood. Many, especially in the rural areas, celebrated those holidays nonetheless. The rest of us knew of the existence of Christmas and Easter and we even painted eggs on Easter but were oblivious of their symbolism (a Good Thing in my book). Santa Claus was something exotic that didn't belong in our world. But we did have another Good Man: Grandpa Cold (Dedek Mraz) who brought presents to good children on New Year's Eve so we were not deprived of that part of the holiday. And we decorated a tree but not before a day before New Year's Eve.

So Christmas was of no importance in my family, but there was one thing: grandmother and later mother would bake potica for Christmas and not the New Year. It was yummy (still is) so we never questioned the motive. But the most vivid memories are not those of potica but those of the sights and smells and excitement and expectation at the year's end.

Since Christmas has officially been made a holiday the family no longer gathers on New Year's Day to exchange presents but we do that on Christmas Day. But although I'm not too fond of any holiday (except for the fact we are free from work) I still prefer New Year and the memories it brings along. And the cosiness of home works best for me.