Growing up, Christmas day was quite a production. We had our own cozy morning with “just us.” (See previous post part one.)

Then around noon or so, we would head out for a day full of extended family. Showered and dressed for the festivities, but not too fancy, I would look forward to crawling around the floor of my grandma’s house with my cousins as part of the wolf pack. But before the wolf pack adventures, we would stop at my grandparents house in Jackson, NJ.

My grandparents house was not ordinary. According to Zillow, it was built in 1916. It was formerly a cranberry farm and the cranberry house is technically still standing, although it’s glory days are past. They used to use it as a farm when they were raising my mom, aunts and uncles. They had at least one cow and chickens. I would have to find out if there were more animals. They grew vegetables and fruit and sold it at little farm market in front of their house. My mom remembers a gentleman driving all the way from New York for tomatoes from my grandparents farm.

It is still a beauty to be seen as a relic of history and seasons. The chicken coop turned club house and the barn turned storage, my cousins and I had adventures in the six acre wood behind the farming area. We would tuck in our socks and follow our own path to our secret spot. One of us found a circle of trees that fit the five of us perfectly. We roped it off with twine and sticks, added a old little cabinet to hide our treasures and secrets. We swore an oath (not blood though) that no one could know about our spot. We giggled in delight at our secret hideout. It was dubbed, “The Sanctuary.”

My grandparents had five children and their spouses, significant others, and offspring could not all congregate in the same room at the same time. Because the house was compact enough, the many rooms still did not feel too separate from each other. The cousins could gathered around the kitchen table, play room, or upstairs in “the girls’ room” and still hear the conversation of the parents in the living room at the center of the farmhouse.

Back at Grandma and Pop-Pop’s, we opened presents without fuss or presentation. We younger cousins would exchange amongst ourselves (when we hit puberty and started to get allowance) just because we liked each other. These would be given semi-discreetly because we didn’t get gifts for all the cousins. Grandparent gifts were given and opened in front of our grandparents when deemed the right time- usually close to leaving time.

After lunch, giggles, and gifts in Jackson, we would get back into the car with some new goodies. We could get onto 195 and be at Grandma’s in 15 minutes. When we were close to getting off the highway, I would lean with my forehead pressed to the window to see her house from the exit ramp. I thought it was the neatest thing.

Again, I will have to continue another time. This is too long for one blog post.