Monday, December 24, 2012


I remember hearing the bells on Christmas Eve. I must have been six or seven years old because it was before my parents divorced. We had returned from midnight mass, and as I climbed into bed, I heard them clearly. I was certain it was the jingle of Santa's sleigh, so I quickly squeezed my eyes closed, hoping he would not pass by because I was not asleep. I often return to that memory, mainly because soon after, part of me forgot how to believe in magic. I've always had lovely memories of Christmas. My mom worked so hard to make the holidays special. Even when we didn't have money, she made sure we never went without, but those early years growing up are the most vivid. After the divorce, I grew up quickly, and that is what happens. I'm who I am because of how life played out. I wouldn't have my amazing step-dad if my parents hadn't split up. I'm beginning to realize that life in itself is magic. Every moment shapes who we are, and brings unexpected gifts, and he was definitely an unexpected gift. I remember the first time he came over. My mom made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, and my brother hid in the closest because he hated new people. I loved him from the start because he made me laugh. He still does! 
For a long time those bells were a distant memory, but I'm beginning to listen more closely now. Not only can I hear, but I can see. Magic...