I visited my mom this weekend. Though all of her kids are grown and out, her house still looks like a Winter Wonderland (that's just one room in her house in the picture below), just like I remember it as a kid. It's a different house and different decorations, but it transcends time, it's magical.
When I was little Christmas always felt magical. It looked like a dream and the aura of magic hung in the air with anticipation. When I walk in to my mother's house, it takes me back. I remember the excitement. I remember the anticipation. I remember all the feelings from way back when. I remember certain decorations that though many are long gone or have been handed down to us kids, created that atmosphere.
Now as a mom, I get it. My girls squeal with excitement when the tree gets drug up the stairs. They wait with anticipation as the ornaments and other decorations are carefully placed. The advent box holds treasures of the days to come and they await it's opening each day with giddiness.
The magic is ours to create. I don't have the decorating skills of my mother. I'm not near as crafty. I don't bake like her or my grandmothers, but to my kids, what we do is joyful. It connects with them and each year they look forward to pulling out the old memories and making new ones.
Each year we make magic. It's a gift that passes on. And one day, though not near as elaborate as my mother's, I hope they walk in and feel like they're going back in time to the Winter Wonderland of their youth.
The Christmas magic lives on in each of us!
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