|little hands reaching for the wonder|
It was a weekend of Christmas events – the season is in full swing, carols of cheer ring through shops and festivities. The massive tree downtown had the switch flipped, illuminating it with thousands of tiny colored lights while onlookers sipped hot chocolate topped with a mound of swirled whipped cream. People chatted and warmed themselves around small half kegs turned into fire pits and raised to table height. It looked like a scene out of a Dickens story only set in modern day America.
Saturday was parade day, a parade like only happens in a small city; marching bands and floats with scouts and girls’ dance teams; prancing horses with jingle bells and the requisite pooper-scooper tagging behind. Bystanders waved and wished all a “Merry Christmas” with an equally enthusiastic response. A heartwarming and genuine spirit of Christmas. And...more hot chocolate and Santa making his grand appearance at the tail end of the parade that wound its way across the river and all through town.
Then there was tree cutting in the snow with bits of sunshine peeking through the clouds.
The kids played and threw snowballs and made snow angels, all oblivious to the cold or snow in their faces. Little kids are often oblivious, living in their own worlds, worlds filled with wonder.
I had things to accomplish. Some of which I did. But I chose to do the happy things with family. Seeing the smiles, hearing the laughter was more than worth leaving a few things undone. And my tree? Well, it’ll happen; lights are up and other nods to the season are out, including my favorite – nativity and paperwhites.
The weekend scenes depicted are merry and bright, however, all is not merry and bright for people I know and care about. My focus is on being sensitive to them, to myself, while catching memories to preserve and cultivate.
Love and peace to you, my friends –
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