Sitting at my front window, I spy my neighbors, young renters, across the street making trips out to the car. They are loading up with brightly wrapped gifts and loads of laundry baskets. One basket spilled a little on to the snowy ground. It’s dirty already, so who cares. This simple, mundane act sent me through a flood of memories, and stories. Stories of going home for holiday break from school all the way back to when I was a kid and woke up at some crazy hour in the morning (wait, I still do that, every day. ha!) to see what magical things appeared overnight.
I remember one Christmas when I was living in NYC and decided last minute to jump on a tiny plane to a tiny town, for a 24-hour trip to be with my mom, aunt, and little cousin. She was at that really fun age when the magic of Christmas is palatable. We woke up and she saw the bright red shiny shoes under the tree from the loft, “DORTHY SHOES! I’M GOING DOWN!” she declared. She had a thing for Wizard of Oz that year. We all stumbled out of bed to join her.
Though our stories have different details, they all have a common holiday theme, love. Whether we’re celebrating the new babies’ first Christmas, or enjoying time together, or even cherishing the pain in our heart for those that have passed, it’s a gift to be able to fill up on these memories and the love.
I hope this season you’re making more beautiful memories to hold on to for days beyond today. Celebrate, spread the light, be the love. Happy Holidays!
