The first time I visited Koziar’s Christmas Village I was a fourth grade Girl Scout. Our leaders rounded us up in a bunch of cars, and we waited in the mile-long traffic to see the shimmering, magical lights. Coming down over the final hill on what seemed like a forever-long back road, the car filled with “ooh’s” and “ahh’s.”
That was the first and last time that the magic of Christmas Village seemed so big for me, but for the past six years, I have had the joy of watching the awestruck look on my nieces’ and nephews’ faces as the car rolls over the hill and as we make our way through the village.
I can’t remember how it became a tradition, but it started out with my niece and nephew and myself. Over the years, the group grew as my oldest nephew decided to join, and we welcomed my youngest niece into the family. We would decorate Christmas cookies, open presents and then pack in the car. I would blast holiday tunes to drown out the high-pitched, seemingly endless chorus of, “Are we there yet?”
Once we would get there, it would all be worth it as I got to see their eyes widen at the beauty of all the lights and decorations.
Of course, we could never get past the entrance without taking a million pictures in those funny painted things you stick your head through. “Look, I’m Frosty!” or, “I’m an angel, Aunt Laura!”
After reading every single sign, waiting in line for pictures with Santa Claus, ducking in and out of every kitschy shop to get warm and drinking endless hot cocoa, we would be exhausted.
The whole ride home, I would be reminded of how amazing the trip was, as if it happened years ago.
Most years, I have looked forward to it, not including that one year my nephew got carsick after an hour in traffic, and I had to turn around and take everyone home for pizza and Christmas movies. The point is that I get to experience the magic of a brilliant place through the eyes of a few awesome children that I love.
Unfortunately, six years of tradition came to a halt this year after my sister and her family packed up and moved to North Carolina. Among a bunch of other fun traditions, this was the one I knew I would miss most.
For the first year, though, I got to enjoy the experience with my boyfriend and his son, who remembered Christmas Village from a long time ago.
We did the same things: took photos in the funny face-in-hole frames, read the signs, drank hot cocoa and even took a photo of all of us with Santa Clause.
We had a blast, but something was still missing, so I got out my I-Phone and put technology to good use. I took pictures and videos and sent them to my niece, but she sent me a text saying, “I wish I was with you Aunt Laura.”
I knew she couldn’t be, but I used the next best thing to keep the tradition alive: FaceTime. As much as it wasn’t the same, as soon as I could see the kids’ faces, the “ooh’s” and “ahh’s” and smiles began.
I walked through the village with them, showing them the signs and lights and even throwing change in the wishing well for them to make their Christmas wishes. I rang the bell as loud as possible, and I made sure they didn’t tell me what they wished for.
It was different, but the kids were simply happy that I thought of them. We shared memories from past years, and we talked about what Santa might bring this Christmas. I figured out that as much as technology seems to separate us these days, I could use it to bring family and friends together at a special time of year.
Whether or not they make it to Pennsylvania for Christmas next year, I look forward to having them there with me to keep our now seven-year tradition going and remember that a little change doesn’t have to be such a bad thing. To be together, even with hundreds of miles separating us, was a special gift. Even though it wasn’t on my list, I guess Santa knew exactly what I wanted this Christmas.
Laura Dillon is a Kutztown University graduate and former intern for Berks-Mont Newspapers.