A week ago, I would have given a small smile. "Of course I love Christmas." While inside I sympathized with the Grinch. The noise, the noise, the noise. Life is busy enough before December. School, homework, lunches, crafts, schedules, groceries, laundry, dishes... It's a long list. Then December arrives. This year, with a snowstorm.
December is all excitement and hectic garlands that turn days into epic adventures.
Along with the usual decorating, gift-finding, parties, wrapping, and baking. Along with an emotional path that will be shared soon, promise. It's been a long, wild December.
I felt fatigue and pain and frustration and anger. Annoyance on days where I felt dragged down by my limitations. Intense respect and appreciation for days when I felt the comforts of family and home. Gratitude for the many, many gifts in my life (many which cannot be held by paper and bows). I am very lucky indeed. Even with my challenges.
Then, at the end of December, after all the toils and tribulations, I find this.
I focus on family. On a day outside time. Where we dress up. We ignore laundry and dishes in the sink (mostly). We eat tasty treats. We laugh. We give. We show appreciation for the people who mean everything. We celebrate. A holiday. Each other. This precious day.
We remember forever the magic of a holiday. They blur. Stories grow from traditions. And still we hold that day close.
Today I come out of the Christmas fog. And even though it was a ton of work, and I have a ton of photos to edit (yay!) and a house to clean, I miss the hectic garlands that threaded through December days. I miss the magic.