Christmas Magic

I swear this happens every year. We have this amazing Thanksgiving holiday with Jo and her family, and the lingering happiness and good cheer make me so excited for Christmas. With anticipation, I lug down box after box of carefully labeled Christmas decorations from the attic. And then I open them one by one, and my heart drops. Who bought all this crap? From the haphazard collection of nutcrackers, to the craft-store collection of snowmen, it's a complete mish-mash of tacky. Much of it older than my daughter, and for sure showing its age. But I soldier on, putting some Bing Crosby's Christmas on the stereo and taking it one box at a time. My mood improves as I set out the angels, santas and snowmen, remembering past holidays and how each piece found it's place in our home. Over the next week I embellish my displays with fresh greenery and glitter, tweeking this and that until things look just right. And that's when I see the magic of Christmas. My humble collection of holiday decorations is transformed amidst the twinkling lights and pine scented air. They hold all my memories and good cheer and happiness of Christmases past. And to me, that's magic.