Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!

I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know, make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is you...

Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree for me...

Silent Night/Holy Night, all is calm, all is bright...

I hear all these tunes flashing past in the department store that I am shopping in. I'm guilty of singing aloud alongside the songs. Even as nearby shoppers give me weird stares, I can't help but continue to sing. What can I say, Christmas just makes me jolly and merry. Nearby on a shelf filled with toys, I see a toy guitar with flashing, gaudy red stripes decorating it. I remember, with a laugh, my cousin's tendency to hop around the Christmas tree with his guitar strapped closely to his side. Right next to the kiddy-looking guitar is an equally childish mini-keyboard. I feel my fingers automatically twiddling and itching to touch the keys of the beautiful, albeit shrunken, instrument. Since I was young, playing the piano has always been a constant, sometimes annoying presence. It was a way of expressing myself that no amount of talking could ever satisfy. The last product on the shelf, slightly misplaced and positioned haphazardly, is what draws my attention. Maybe less of a toy and more of a journal, the top reads "Family Christmas Album." I picked it up gingerly and with trepidation, not wanting to ruin its fine, glossy cover. It is wrapped in plastic, but there is a label attached to its back describing its contents and the themed pages that the album is split into. I read one of the theme titles that is a part of the album and subsequently find that I can't stop grinning like an idiot.

Christmas Caroling. It's an old tradition in our house. Old enough to have been around since I was old enough to be conscious of things like traditions. But not too old to be a tradition that would only apply to my parents' generation. In retrospect, I suspected that the tradition really only went as far as the kids were concerned. During one winter holiday, one of my aunts got the idea to start a mini-concert. I guess it made sense. My family has always supported giving and getting in equal turns. The parents provided the gifts, and the kids provided the entertainment. My older cousins, the stars in my galaxy that lit up my childhood eyes with excitement and pride, all knew how to play at least one instrument each. Combined, they were practically a band; the ukulele, guitar, violin, and piano all made an appearance. I really enjoyed their voices, though. Sometimes too high-pitched, sometimes off-key, but all the time confident and overall angelic. My aunt sat them at the piano, and they played cute songs for their audience. "Heart and Soul" was a popular piece and reverberated in my head long after they were done playing it. My favorite songs were always the Asian songs that my aunts and uncles always pushed my cousins to learn how to play. However, as my cousins got older, more frequently pop music would pop up and traditional Christmas songs were not uncommon. All the little ones, including me, would sit in a circle and watch the older, more talented cousins as they serenaded us. During one Christmas, I was stunned into silence (which was definitely hard to do) by my one older cousin who won awards for his piano playing. He played his own original piece, and I can still remember how absorbed he was in his piano-playing. Since then, the piano has held a close place in my heart. Later on, as the younger children of the family grew up, even more instruments appeared in the mix. My cousin learned how to play the flute and a few years later I followed her footsteps. Really, every Christmas, the house that we all converged upon was filled with noise and sounds. Some good, some ear-screeching but all well-meaning.

Back in the store, I read another title on the side of the album. The words blur together as my eyes turn misty.

Family Pictures. It wasn't every day that my family was able to coordinate get-together events (although I am lucky that we do practically meet once a month). Especially for the big holidays, my family loves lining up all the children and taking a picture. It has always been a family joke, measuring up all the children against one another in a line based on height. Our parents like to pick on the shortest kid with well-meaning intentions and the taller cousins like to flaunt their height. One of the photos I have of my passed away grandfather is a Christmas photo of all of us together. It has the smiling children bending down in the front row. The adults, stern as always but even they acted childish when faced with the holiday spirit, were all standing tall in the back row. My grandparents were featured front and center in the middle row. They held the tiniest children on their laps and had grim faces that only close family members could tell were actually their smiles. The photo is something I treasure. Not only does the photo have every single family member in it, but every time I see the photo, it's like I can reach in and feel the Christmas atmosphere exuding from it. Being all together and all collectively celebrating one another, the photo exemplifies the proverb "a picture is worth a thousand words."

I swipe at my eyes quickly to clear my vision. I set the album carefully back on the shelf and walk away. An hour later, as I'm walking out the door of the department store with its tacky decorations and overly commercially marketed products, I see a young girl reach for the album. I know my mom is still at the register paying so I race over to help the small girl. She seems shocked at first that I am helping her, but when I hand over the album, she smiles brightly up at me. I ask her curiously, "What are you going to do with the album?" She responds, quite intelligently and maturely, "I don't know." I laugh a little and decide to giver her some advice. "Why don't you start a tradition this Christmas holiday. Share your idea with your family. Make sure to take a picture to prove that the tradition happened. Then, add the picture to that album you got in your hands. I promise you, when you get older, you will be happy for the memories. Oh, and don't forget to sing some songs on Christmas. That's always fun." I walk away once her mom comes over and can't help smiling. The traditions, the food, the happiness, it all comes with Christmas. But I'm really looking forward to the traditions. The ones that always stick with you. Personally, I can't wait for Christmas!