Holiday displays like the one at the BMO Harris building often shape our memories of the season and remain with us long after we’re no longer children. But sometimes different memories define the perfect Christmas for us, as essayist Alexandra Rosas discovers:
On a thin carpet over bare wood floors, my brother and I sat and waited. Buzzing with anticipation, our eyes wide, giggling, with our fingers in our mouths. It was Christmas Eve, and my entire family was sitting around our tinsel covered, brightly lit Christmas tree.