A Visit to the Torrington Christmas House is a Visit for the Soul.

Want to relive your childhood?

There’s a house in Torrington, Connecticut that can help you do just that. Imagine a home filled with the joy of Christmas on the inside from ceiling to floor to every inch of wall space imaginable. The Polar Express train running throughout carrying with it gifts for the children. The caroler dolls so well organized, you can almost hear them singing a Christmas carol.

This is The Christmas House. Located right on Main Street near the downtown. A magical place I have been escaping to for the better part of thirty years.

Packed with so much joy on the inside, that it simply has to let it all out on the outside too. You see, The Christmas House doesn’t just have a few lights. Not even just a couple of yard decorations. It is Christmas bonanza.

The moment you arrive, you are instantly hit with illumination, so much so you could envision this being something that you could see from space. Cars line the streets just to capture pictures of this true beauty that we Litchfield County folks have known for years. As you stand in awe, just trying to figure out what this could be, you might want to start walking toward the front entrance. You’re in for a treat.


As you begin your tour and marvel at the front yard, you’ll instantly notice the exuberant amount of lighting and Christmas displays from yesteryear. A little bit of nostalgia to prepare you for what is to come. The snoring Santa Claus paired with Mrs. Claus crocheting is a reminder of a simpler time when were all a little bit more relaxed.

Speaking of relaxed, don’t forget to do just that as you venture through. You see, The Christmas House is not made to just dash through. It’s meant to simply unwind and capture the true magic of the season.


As you step inside the home, you’ll instantly notice the magic. There’s no bare space on the walls nor the ceilings. Every square inch is packed with something to remind you of the holidays, even the little Coca Cola polar bears from back in the nineties.

Making your way towards the upstairs, you’ll pass through stairwells that glisten with Christmas lighting and decor that eventually bring you to center stage, and an area that I like to call The North Pole of the home. It is here where you’ll see the carolers, the dolls, the trains, and even an entire Christmas village that is sure to put a smile on your face as you reflect back to being a kid and believing in what you couldn’t see.


That for me has always been the hardest part of this house. I cry on the inside each year. You see, back in the years of my youth, I believed in Santa Claus so much so that I would wait to hear the sleigh bells on the roof from Santas sleigh. I would always fall asleep before that point, of course, but one year I stayed up throughout the night. No bells. I kept looking out the window trying to figure out what part of the world the old man was in. The clock kept ticking, and still no bells.

Eventually, I started tearing up thinking that Santa had skipped over me this year. Maybe I had done something wrong, I thought. As morning came, it became increasingly evident that I would stroll to the other end of the house and not see any presents left under the tree.

To my surprise, there weren’t just presents. The entire living room was unwalkable. It looked like Santa had run of out gas and left every present behind by accident.

There were no bells. There was no Santa. This was the year I discovered my parents love even more so. I don’t say that because there was a room full of gifts, I say that because it had been a hard year for them, and they still found a way to make Christmas happen for their only son who still believed in a Santa right up to the age of ten. I gave both of my parents a hug, thanked them so much for showing me how to appreciate the season, and together we opened gifts. There didn’t need to be a Santa for this family together. There just had to be belief in the season of magic.

That’s what The Christmas House does for me each year. It fills my soul with the same joy of that one Christmas morning. I’m glad it’s such a staple in the very town I had spent my life becoming a part of. I wouldn’t know what I would do without that house in my life. I can’t thank Ron Merriman, the owner of the home, enough for bringing joy back to the world each and every Christmas season.





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