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I ruminate a lot, perhaps too much. Lately, especially after turning sixty, I find myself looking back to my childhood, my teenage years, and during this Christmas season, to those little-big moments with my dad, my abuelita, and my nieces and nephews, whom I can hardly believe have grown so grown.

I remember when Christmas was coming. My dad would play Christmas carols, filling the house with anticipation, especially for Christmas Eve. He always made it so special. What I remember most now are not the events themselves, but the feelings that have become attached to memory over time.

I remember standing by the window, hoping to see my dad returning from work. Maybe that’s why I spent so much of my life waiting, because his return always carried joy.

I also recall how special going to the movies felt. Such a treat, such excitement, though for some strange reason, I often came out with a high fever.

And then there were my little ones, my nieces and nephews. Spending Christmas with them was pure joy; their excitement and surprised faces on Christmas morning when they saw the presents. I remember the last-minute gift shopping, the occasional panic when we bought the wrong thing, and the frantic Christmas Eve dash to make it right.

Now, most of them are gone, grown, living their own lives, choosing their own paths. I miss them.

And I miss abuelita, her cooking, her stories, the warmth she brought to us all.

There are so many moments like these, memories that still fill me with warmth.

To all of them, I miss thee.