I am a Christmas baby. No, really. I was born on Christmas Day. In an ideal world my Christmases should have been double joyful, as it were, my holidays used to be quite sad. My mother chose that particular time of the year to reminisce about her childhood and mourn every relative that had passed away. I never had a birthday party the reason being it fell on "a too special day, nobody would come" but I always had a cake and many, many gifts.
I never really noticed how bizarre my Christmas-birthdays used to be until I grew up and had a chance to compare it to other people's but by that time I didn't care. I too, got depressed and thought of those "who were no longer with us."
It was only when I met my husband and had my first baby that I discovered the sheer joy and importance of this time of year. It was as if a thick veil had been lifted and I saw light and heard music all around.
Getting the tree, choosing the ornaments, writing letters to Santa, leaving him cookies, singing Christmas carols...I believe I enjoyed it more than my children did! and what a thrill it was to go to the Mall and see him sitting there with his beautiful red suit!
The children have grown and the celebrations are a bit different but I have to confess that on Christmas Eve, when Santa goes around our town sitting atop a Fire Engine, I still rush to the door and wave as he goes by and I still get goosebumps and teary eyed. For a brief moment, I allow myself to belief everything is beautiful, there is love for everyone and that yes, there is a Santa Claus!
Note- photo from Weheartit.com