I stroll down the cobblestone street, hearing giggly children, happy parents, tired babies. I'm not in a real big hurry; there's still half an hour before the parade starts. I'm perfectly content to just enjoy being downtown. I laugh as kids run around, trying to pick the best spot to watch everything.

Lights dance throughout the square. The gazebo is brightly lit; the shops have Santas and Christmas trees in the windows; the twenty-foot-tall tree stands in the middle of the square, it's multi-colored star shining in the cloudless night.

I walk over to where they're giving out homemade brownies and hot chocolate. I grab a cup of cocoa, and, taking a sip, I wind up burning my tounge. But I don't mind-- I consider that to be a tradition. Maybe it's strange, but upon doing so, I'm filled with childhood memories. Memories of sitting by the fire with my parents, sitting in the parade myself... memories that I don't dare forget.

I stroll a little farther down the street, looking for someone I know. Every tree lining the square is decorated; the rooftops are glittering. Finally I spot one of my friends babysitting for my old dance teacher who happens to be in a float. We sit and talk for a while before I get up to streatch my legs. I walk down the sidewalk, glancing in store windows, trying not to spill my hot chocolate on anyone.

I spot some people I know and stop to talk with them. Finishing my cocoa, I toss the cup into a nearby trash can. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the cold winter air, listening to the conversations around me. Then my heart is stopped momentarily as a pair of hands clap me on the shoulders.

I jump and turn to see a few friends who I hadn't known were coming. I laugh and shove them away playfully, joking that they were going to have to take me to the hospital. They roll their eyes and saunter off to find the food.

Then I hear a familiar sound- the band; the start of the parade. The high school band marches down the street, followed by the firetrucks, antique cars, tractors, companies, and horses. And I remember why I love coming here every year-- even though it's cold, and not really much different than when I was little, it's comforting. It's a community coming together. It's Christmas.