Boys who Believe

So I'm taking the tree down and I'm always sort of glad to be done with all of it--Mommy can only take so many games of Ornament Hockey and Tinsel Toss, but this year, I feel bad. Sad. Teary-sad. And not even for one of the standard and previously stated reasons. I wonder how much Santa is left for us. How much sweet and open awe will survive another year? And worse, how much did I miss/ignore/bitch about this year because of the generally crappy way things are right now? This all sort of came out of nowhere, really. One minute I'm unhooking fake tree limbs and the next I'm trying to hold back time. My sweet boys. Maddening, quirky, sticky-sweet boys. Boys who drive me to frustration and anger and worry and sometimes despair. Boys who won't/don't/can't fit a mold or even a diagnosis. But they're boys who believe. Really believe. And I know I did not revel in it this year. I did not respect the magic of the children. Everything got in the way and I did not consider how ephemeral that magic is. Oh, I hope my boys hang on for another year. Just one more year. I hope with all that's in my beaten-down self. I promise I will be good and I will be patient and I will ponder it all in my heart. I won't let it be crappy day to crappy day existence. I won't. I will look for the light and the joy. I will be grateful for what my boys can do and not despair over what they might not. I really will try.