My son asked me if I believed in magic. He wanted to know if he should believe that something could exist that you may not be able to see. I knew what he was asking - he was asking if he should believe in the magic of Christmas. But, as I sit here typing I realize that maybe he was asking for more - maybe he was asking why as adults we seem so far removed from the magic of Christmas that sometimes it is hard for us to believe even what is right before our eyes.
I'm 37 years old and I'm not sure I ever believed in the magic of Christmas. My memories of Christmas are all good. I remember lots of family and friends coming for Christmas dinner. I remember the chaos of trying to figure out who would sit where and if we had enough chairs. I remember random presents - a doll, a bike, lots of nightgowns ... but nothing so monumental that it defined me. It was neither good nor bad - just a special day - that meant a lot of cooking and a lot of cleaning - but also a lot of being together. This Christmas I made the decision not tor travel anywhere. I wanted my kids to have Christmas in their own house. Wake up in their own beds - open presents under their own tree ... I wanted that moment. But when Matthew asked me about the magic - I was left wondering what would be magical about "that moment." In truth, once the Barbie Dreamhouse got on the wishlist - I knew we wouldn't be driving anywhere,
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment