When I suppose of Christmas, I suppose about when I was a kid. I remember resting in the family room with the lights on the tree. The smell of cinnamon rolls would be in the air. Dad would have bowls of fruit as well as our favorite nuts as well as candy resting on the counter. The camera would be flashing to make memories of our opening the gifts. Dad would sneak away so she could put coal in the furnace, so the apartment would be nice as well as hot as all of us sat on the floor in our current pajamas. There were more than five kids as well as Dad as well as dad, as well as I don’t ever remember an argument, or someone complaining if somebody seem to have got more. Santa was something that all of us went to the corner stereo shop to follow on the shop owner’s newest stereo. When the replaces came through that Santa was in the US, all of us would run back home so all of us could go to bed. Both of us consistently smelled of the wood fire she had in her fireplace. Dad would make us take a shower as well as all of us went to bed. After lunch, all of us would walk to our Grandmother’s. She consistently had a fire in the hot afternoon stove as well as you could smell the heat. Grandmother made the best mince meat pies as well as she would have a fresh pie resting on the table, waiting for us to eat. Christmas was simple back then. I have so several fond memories as well as I consistently equate the joy all of us felt with the warmth of the heating that was in the house. It may be a bit odd to some, but it was the fireplace, the wood or coal stove, as well as the smell of baking that is the ghost of Christmas past for me.