The child longs for perfectly presented objects of desire placed underneath the twinkling lights and all the time in the day; for normal life to cease and fantasy land to commence, the imagination alive with possibility.
Anticipation mounts the joy. Mystery multiples the wonder. Hugs are sweeter. The air is thick. It is confirmed: life is good.
We rehearsed it as we went from house to house. “Merry Christmas,” we would practice. By the time we got to the next one, the anticipation of ringing the doorbell was too much and the words would fail him. He would just stick out his hand holding the bag of gingerbread to give to our neighbor. Despite our rehearsals and our plans, our three year old is our wild card. Our surprise.
I love the intentional time this season gives to shower those around us with love. The gifts thoughtfully purchased and delicately wrapped. The stove watched over as the gingerbread loaves reach completion to show love to neighbors. The decorations hung around the house to usher in the joy of the season.
The list that once caused me anxiety now gives me a sense of relief as each item is crossed off in completion
Now comes the real Christmas. Continue reading
A new frame holds an old picture on my chest of drawers. Smiles beam on their young faces. Oldest has his arms wrapped around mother and father. Youngest holds on tight to mother. Mother and daughter’s hands intertwined. The photo speaks of promise and hope. Dreams and the unknown.
TIME rushes like a racing train through a tunnel as the voice of my youngest pierces the silence. I am no longer the young daughter clinging tightly to my mother. I am now the mother.
How is it that TIME can suddenly go off like an alarm – causing me to sit up and in the haze of sleepiness, wonder where I am and how I got here? Continue reading