For me it is so many things. Some tied to religion, some to magic, most to memory. There once was a pair glass trees that were ALWAYS filled with red, green & silver Hershey kisses. That is it. NOTHING other than that went it. EVER. They sat on my mother's glass coffee table. Every year. Somehow they were never diminished. Never empty. It was magic. My mother was my grandmother.( She adopted me when I was 4-5. But that is beside the point.) My sister and I split the pair. (she was NOT adopted by our grandmother. My Family story is very "Days of Our Lives",) They are always full. And little by little we are keeping them full and therefore keeping THAT particular magic alive. Red, green, and silver. I for mine and my sweet, beautiful sister for hers. (Even though NO ONE is allowed to touch them but us!) And I am teaching my children the magic. Little by little. Christmas was always the, to quote a FAMOUS song, "The Most Wonderful Time of The Year". My mother went OVERBOARD in the very best sense. There were HUGE plywood trees, candy canes, and YES, Virginia, A Giant Santa Sleigh and Eight Tiny Pink Flamingos. (It was FLA people)Those bits went to my birth mother, who THANKFULLY, still puts them up every year. Even though they have seen better days. It's the spirit behind them I think. My mommy. Billie Jean. (Really, NO LIE, that was her name. It was Sylvia, but she changed it to Billie Jean. And then regretted it a little when Michael Jackson came along.) SHE is the biggest part of this time of year for me. I still put chocolate coins in my boys' stockings because of her.(STILL not sure of this one) I still make let them open ONE present on Christmas Eve...Christmas Jammies...DUH! Because of her ( Tam- remember matching the blue and pink "satin" nightgowns? I have pictures...just sayin...) I watch the cheesy movies, and bake the cookies, and sing the carols, and lay under the tree on Christmas Eve, when it's all lit up,(remember that Tam?) alone. And I cry a little and thank GOD I was given a woman like my mommy. And then I have a little Kahlua and Milk like my mommy used to and just look at the lights and I talk to her. And thank her for all the MAGIC.
My 11 year old is losing it and it kills me. He is very cynical. But THANKFULLY, sweet enough to realize that his little brother still believes. MY child. He even said to me tonight, "Mom, if you tell me the magic is real. I'll believe." He wants to, so badly. What do you think I said? i held him close and told him that it's the magic and the spirit, and the LOVE and family that is what is important. And THAT is what is THE MAGIC. He smiled and I think he GOT IT. The little one is MY child too. He still believes. In every single bit of magic. He is VERY concerned that Santa will not be able to fit down our TINY chimney. I told him that Santa is magic so therefore everything is possible. That was enough for him. We were outside pruning and weeding and winterizing the yard and damned if Santa didn't ride past on a fire truck and slow down in front of our house (which is on a semi-major road) and wave to my baby. As did the firemen, police and rescue folks accompanying him. HUGE thanks to the Williamstown Fire Dept. for that little bit of magic. You made my baby wave his little arm so hard his wrist STILL hurts, you made my oldest stop and wonder, you made the GRINCH aka, the hubs, pause and smile at his offspring and crazier than bat shit wife waving like maniacs in the front yard. But...the point is, don't lose it. EVER. The magic. Whatever it is to you. Matching Christmas Jammies. Oranges in the stockings. Midnight Mass. Whatever. Just be. And remember. And be thankful. And Love Each other. And GOD BLESS US EVERYONE. I love you, Mommy. Thank you for your magic and your faith. And for my special moments at Christmas.