|Posted on February 28, 2011 at 11:57 AM|
When I was young, I used to picture myself walking in the streets during a light snow.
I would be wearing a black beret-style hat, with a black and white plaid coat. I would have long dark hair, cascading down my back. Streetlamps would guide me on my journey as I watched the big snowflakes slowly falling from the sky.
In reality? I don't own a plaid coat, hats look horrible on me and I recently chopped my long dark hair until it was shorter than my fiancé's (he's still mourning that, by the way).
But, that's ok. It's a childhood fantasy. And whenever there's a light snow, I go out and walk. I breathe in the cool air. I catch snowflakes and watch them melt in my hand.
I also love to curl up near a real fire, with a hot mug of something, and simply stare at the fire until it feels my eyeballs have burned. Not a romantic image, but you get what I mean. Then, recently, my parents got rid of their wood-burning stove, and I am mourning it. They have a propane stone now. And it doesn't have the same charm as the other one. Much easier to take care of, but....
These past few years, I had lost my excitement and love for Christmas. Don't get me wrong, it's a wonderful time to see family, but . . Where was the excitement? I am way past the age to believe in Santa (although I secretely do) and presents didn't have the same 'ooomph' as before.
But last Christmas and this one, the excitement seems to have come galloping back. I truly realise what a blessing it is to have family and friends to spend Christmas with. People I love and who love me for myself.
Sharing memories and food. Taking pictures and reminiscing. Smiling at the thought some people put into choosing their gifts. Grinning (or tearing up) when I realise how good it feels to give someone a gift they really wanted.
Ah, Christmas is such a magical time of year.