The Holidays, the Memories, and the Dreams That Never Happened
Finding Peace Between What Was, What Is, and What Might Have Been
As the Christmas season approaches, I find myself doing what I always do this time of year—reminiscing.
Some memories are beautiful. They stick to me like glue. Actually, Super Glue. The laughter, the traditions, the people I loved, and the moments I wish I could relive just one more time.
Other memories are different.
Those are what I call my Velcro memories.
They appear out of nowhere and attach themselves to my thoughts. They bring back the pain, heartbreak, disappointment, and loss. But unlike the Super Glue memories, these can be ripped away. When they surface, I imagine pulling them from my heart and mind. I can almost hear the tearing sound of Velcro as I release them and let them go once again.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become very interested in what I call “replacement memories”.
I don’t want to forget the bad memories. Those Velcro memories helped shape me into the person I am today. They taught me lessons, strengthened me, and made me who I am. But I do want to replace them with good memories. New memories. Happy memories.
The truth is, none of us know how much time we have left on this earth.
In fact, as I sit here writing this, I realize I may not even be here for Christmas. I certainly hope I am, but that decision isn’t mine to make.
One of the hardest parts of this reflective season is thinking about all the bucket lists I’ve created over the years.
When I was younger, I would write my dreams on paper. Eventually, when I became discouraged, I’d tear those lists into tiny pieces and throw them away. As I got older, I upgraded to a shredder. These days, most of my bucket lists live on a computer screen. It’s easy to open a file, read through forgotten dreams, remember old regrets, hit delete, and then immediately empty the trash so there’s no temptation to revisit them.
As I think about that, I realize how sad it is that this has become part of my life.
I look back at goals I made in my twenties. Dreams I was certain would happen. Plans that seemed so realistic at the time. Sometimes I wonder how much time I wasted waiting for certain things to fall into place.
Maybe I spent too much time living in a fantasy world? Maybe I dwelled too much on positive thoughts?
I honestly think sitcoms convinced many of us that adulthood would somehow work itself out. That everything would eventually become neat, perfect, and peachy keen.
My grandmother and I talked about that often.
My maternal grandmother and I were incredibly close. Looking back now, I realize just how wise she truly was. I remember the long conversations we shared and the observations she made about life—and about me. So many of the things she said make perfect sense now.
She was one smart lady.
Here we are, just days before Christmas.
The holidays are not unfolding the way I once imagined they would. Family is scattered. Life feels scattered. Yet through it all, I know the true reason for Christmas.
Jesus is the reason for the season.
And for that, I am incredibly grateful.
As I sit quietly with my thoughts, I also realize that I have lived longer than many people I have loved. Cousins. Friends. Aunts. Uncles. My grandparents. People who adored Christmas (and that I adored) and helped shape me into the person I am today.
They didn’t make it to this Christmas.
I will remember them.
I will reminisce.
I will smile at the good memories and quietly thank God for the time I had with them.
This Christmas also brings new experiences and new plans. At this point, I have no idea how everything will unfold or where life will lead me afterward. Someday, I would love to create new traditions and new memories.
But I’m not going to spend my time dreaming about Christmas 2026.
I’ve learned that sometimes dreams, bucket lists, and goals can also bring disappointment, pain, and sadness when they don’t happen the way we hoped.
Instead, I’m going to focus on Christmas 2025.
I’m going to remember the reason for the season.
I’m going to cherish every person I see, every phone call I receive, every laugh, every hug, every text, every Christmas card, and every memory that is made.
And I’m going to try very, very hard not to dwell on what might have been.
Because while yesterday helped shape me and tomorrow is never promised, today is a gift. And that is enough.
Side-note: More to come on bucket lists, goals, dreams, and replacement memories.
Pondering and reminiscing with ….
Life in Words 