Growing up, my family had simple traditions for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We’d drive down Route 1 from Portland singing Christmas carols along the way to my paternal grandparent’s house on Promenade Ave. in Saco, first driving past the bright decorations of the fire station.

Then we made our way up an icy driveway with bags of gifts to a chilly garage, where dozens of plates were filled with desserts, tortieres and finger sandwiches. My favorite snack was Mem’s “nuts and bolts” ”“ a homemade, delicious version of Chex Mix. Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra and Peggy Lee’s voices blared Christmas carols through the house from my grandmother’s favorite AM radio station. My entire family gathered for a night of song, gifts, food and laughter.

The next morning, we’d have a delightful Christmas together at our home ”“ just my sisters and I, our cats and pet rabbits, and my parents. After Christmas morning festivities, we’d drive back to Saco to visit my maternal grandmother’s house on Common Street. Again, dozens of family members gathered in a small, modest home filled with love, gifts, laughter and song. My 20-plus cousins and I excitedly discussed our gifts, showcase our new outfits and catch up on our social lives. Meanwhile, our parents and uncles and aunts excitedly discussed the usual ”“ sports and politics.

When asking my parents about their own earliest Christmas memories, my father recalled 20 family members bundled up for the short walk from his grandparent’s cold-water flat in Biddeford to midnight Mass at St. Andre’s Church and then rushing back to waiting stacks of food to break their six-hour fast. My mother said her mother sang in the choir during midnight Mass at Most Holy Trinity Church. It was so crowded that many had to stand due to the lack of space in the pews.

On Christmas Day, their small house was filled with relatives along with a new face of someone they didn’t know at the table, because her brother Paul would bring someone over who was alone on Christmas. When asking my friends about their Christmases then and now, I heard similar stories: While the characters and props were different, the stories are the same. Everyone had a funny story, an aunt who made everyone laugh, a grouchy old uncle who scared them and, almost as important, treasured family recipes.

I have four friends who just today mentioned they were flying home to see family for Christmas ”“ to New York, Seattle, Boston and Chicago. While everyone’s busy lives are changing and they make new traditions, they do remain committed, it seems, to maintaining the traditions of their parents and grandparents. It’s a strong pull: Every one of my friends who lives away comes home to Maine for Christmas, hoping all the while for snow and more snow.

One friend mentioned that three of her grandparents were from Sweden. The most important part of their Christmas celebration was the Swedish food they made even after dispersing to New Jersey, the Midwest, and she finally settling in Maine. Her father died last year. A special moment of the holiday this year will be making his favorite Swedish Christmas rye bread from scratch. Another friend can’t go home to Kentucky this year. Her mother cooks the same meal every Christmas Eve and on Christmas night they order pizza from the same shop because they’re all too tired to cook. And her Uncle Alex makes Irish coffee after dinner in special Christmas glasses.

We all have such stories. These memories are the reason people love tradition. They don’t want it to change, not because they’re stubborn or aren’t adaptable, but because it reminds them of family, where they came from, and perhaps even where they’re going. My grandparents are gone. I’m lucky to have my parents, my sisters, my nieces and nephews, dozens of cousins and aunts and uncles and friends. My future Christmases will never be the same as my earliest ones, but a constant is the love of the people around me. It won’t change because we won’t let it.

Family, love, tradition and joy are free. Embracing them allows us to keep the traditions that were so important to our grandparents alive and well. Happy holidays!

— Nicole Petit holds a bachelor’s degree in history and a masters in American and New England studies. Petit has spent the past 10 years working for nonprofit groups that deal primarily with disabilities and child welfare. She is originally from Portland, but has strong family ties to Biddeford/Saco.