Slice of life is sponsored by Stacey and Ruth from Two Writing Teachers
I remember a Christmas long ago when I woke up on Christmas Eve night and saw Santa walking into my room. Each year he had always left a new stuffed animal or doll in my arms. I remember looking at him, glancing down at the Monchichi in my arms, and feeling grateful.
As I went back to sleep I heard the noise of footsteps on the roof and felt glad Santa had already visited our house and was now on his way to someone else’s home. I remember running downstairs in the morning and telling my parents about Santa’s visit and how he had stood over me.
A few years later a classmate delighted in telling me how wrong my memory was, how silly and young I must be to believe I saw what I knew I saw. Unfortunately, for many years, I believed her. And the magic of Christmas disappeared.
Fast forward to the year 2002 and the awesome event of becoming a Mom. Slowly the magic began to come back. We had lunch with Santa on the train. Left food outside for the reindeer. Heard the bells of the sleigh as we looked to the sky. And saw Rudolph’s nose in a clear night sky. Kringle, our Elf, visits every year. Sometimes he is ornery and eats our cookies. Sometimes he reminds us to practice the piano by sitting by it. But mostly he reminds us of tradition and our favorite time of the year.
And it is these memories I hold close to my heart and am so grateful for. The magic of the season left me for a few years but with my children I get to see it all again. The traditions, the time spent together, the chance to give (and, according to my boys, the chance to get) gifts. I love this holiday. I love seeing the light in my boys’ eyes. And I love the chance to relive it through them.
