... Someone struggling to hang lights on the house.
...Singing Christmas songs together.
...Decorating the tree with ornaments we'd collected and made all by ourselves.
...Writing letters to Santa.
Through divorce, deployment, and the loving heart of my insightful seven year old, Christmas has evolved into a sense of togetherness we celebrate all year long. Yes, we get excited over our Palm Tree strung with lights and homemade santa hands. We sing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer until we're completely out of breath. We bake cookies for all of our friends and we even write letters to Santa Claus...
But Ruth doesn't wake up at my house on Christmas morning anymore and Ben spends most holidays deployed. Rather than dwell on the "what could have beens" or ache for things I simply can't have, I've taken a cue from my smart (somewhat silly) daughter and I've come to appreciate Mondays and Tuesdays... letters left on legal pads... listening in on advice being passed from one sister to another.
I feel blessed for this gift I've been given. I've been reminded that true magic doesn't come with the seasons or flips and turns of calendar pages.
True magic happens every single day.
So, while Santa only comes once a year I celebrate every day and I wouldn't change a thing.