When I think of my childhood, I remember a sense of magic that surrounded December.
It was such a special time with much to do.
We decorated the tree with wooden ornaments, multicolored lights and a garland of glittering plastic candy. The nativity scene was put out, as were ornamental snowmen and Santa Clauses. I begged my dad for days to “please put lights on the house,” and eventually, he would. While he precariously balanced on a ladder to line the roof in green lights, I did my best to embellish the bushes along the front of the house.
Eventually, we would discuss Santa, and what we planned to ask him to bring from his workshop in the North Pole. Every year I asked for a puppy, but I never found a little yellow lab with a red bow around his neck under the tree. Santa was always nice enough to write a letter, explaining why he couldn’t deliver.
I remember lying in bed, my dark room illuminated by the lights outside my bedroom window, wondering if I would hear Santa come into the house. I would even get up and look out my window, hoping to see a red flash of Rudolph’s nose intermingled with the stars.
Now, as the mother of a 9- month-old, I am looking forward to the season from a different perspective.
This time, I get to watch his smile as he rips wrapping paper apart. Eventually, I’ll listen to him sing traditional Christmas songs just slightly off key. In a few years, he’ll rush to ride a new bike in the to put on a coat.
Though he doesn’t understand the purpose of Santa or know the words to “Jingle Bells” this year, he has become quite appreciative of our tree. In fact, it may be the reason he has become such a speed demon crawler. As soon as I pull him to the opposite side of the room, he immediately begins the trek back to the tree, hoping to hold a light or pluck an ornament from a branch.
There are so many traditions I hope to start this year – going to a candlelight Christmas Eve service; reading “Twas the Night Before Christmas” and the Christmas story on Christmas Eve; wearing new Christmas pajamas to bed and opening presents in them the next day.
I’m sure many more traditions will be discovered along the way.
But most of all, I want to instill in him the magic of the season. It’s a season when people know no bounds – they give and give despite previous budget constraints. They over-decorate and smile a little more. They sing silly songs about giving geese, swans, hens and partridges as presents.
While the season has its negatives – it has been criticized for becoming too commercial – I would hope that my son will see beyond the gifts under the tree. As I recall memories of Christmastime, I remember very little of gifts. Instead, I think about time spent with my extended family or singing carols in the front yard.
It’s a time of hope, distinguished by the cheerful colors of Christmas lights and shimmering garland.
I have so many dreams and hopes for him as he grows older. But as for tonight, I’m going to sit on my couch with my hot chocolate and watch him crawl to the Christmas tree. His smile is brilliant, his determination evident.
I will remember this moment.
This column appeared in the Wise County Messenger Dec. 24, 2009.
