Well, it’s here, folks.

It’s officially Christmas time.

With the closing of the Thanksgiving festivities on Thursday, a new era was ushered into being. The holiday season. Ah, a time of bitter cold contrasted with steaming mugs of cocoa, twinkling lights beaming benignly from every street corner, and a subtle waft of cinnamon drifting in from time to time whose origin isn’t quite perceptible.

It’s certainly a magical time.

The holidays have always represented a sort of nostalgic air of winters past, a reminiscent gaze at childhood traditions of stuffing stockings and decorating trees. For some reason, despite the extreme commercialization of the present day, it is impossible for me to tear myself from Christmases past.

I remember the first snowfall, the light, fluffy snowflakes falling benevolently from the clear, cloudless sky. I recall the glee at the announcement of a school closing, signaling a day ahead filled with nothing but building snowmen until frostbite nearly settles in and being greeted at the door by a warm cup of hot chocolate, complete with little marshmallows, of course.

I remember the traditions as well. Going downtown to peer in wonder at the shop windows, experiencing the hustle and bustle of daily city life, so different in comparison to a quiet suburban existence. Picking out the perfect, fullest Christmas tree and speeding down the street with it tied to the roof of the cars. Racing back home to decorate it with sparkling baubles and twinkling ornaments, gleaming lights and glittering trinkets, then marveling at the pine-smelling masterpiece as the day came quietly to a close.

Time was simpler then.

Less worrying, less violence and rudeness; I recall far less anxious looks and uneasy fits of sleep back then. What I remember most was the apprehension, the eager anticipation of Christmas morning and a day spent with family in our cozy little home.

There was far less commercialization as well. I don’t remember members of my family speeding off from a hasty Thanksgiving dinner to wait in endless lines and fight with strangers for overpriced products with flashing lights. I don’t recall going to stores in July and finding products lined up in anticipation of customers. I certainly don’t have any memory of commercial upon commercial attempting to lure consumers into purchasing marked-up merchandise with the flimsy promise of a “sale." These are things I’m glad I don’t remember at all.

But now they are all around us. The phrase has been repeated a thousand different times, but it’s true that people have lost the true meaning of the holidays. It’s not about the gifts or manufactured products, and a perfectly cooked meal and a yard full of lighted decorations is not the point of the season.

It is truly about gathering with loved ones and remembering why we’re all gathered there. It’s a simple message, but powerful as well. I remember past Christmases with gifts and decorations, lights and trees and ornaments and various tchotchke that celebrated the season. But I also remember that we never forgot why we celebrated.

Enjoy the holidays, everyone. But don’t forget why you are.