Oh Christmas Tree

When I was a senior in high school, I received a pretty decent state award for some writing I'd done. I sat in the assembly beside the head of the English department wearing a ripped sweatshirt (it was 1984) and a vintage old man coat b/c I'd totally forgotten to dress for the event. My teacher was understandably horrified, as she had remembered to dress appropriately, but the kicker was when, during our state song ("Maryland, My Maryland"), I felt the need to turned to her and whisper that I did not know "Oh Christmas Tree" (same melody) was our state song.

She was not amused.

But I digress.

Another Christmas fading away...lights and glitter and sparklies all packed up as time and energy and small boys allow. And I am glad that the madness is done and that we're halfway through the dark of winter, but still, I'm sad. I have boys who believe. I have a Big Boy who says, "Well, why wouldn't you believe?" and I am proud that he owns that tiny bit of magic, even has he gets all gangly and mouthy and cologne-y in his early adolescence.

So I'm sad taking down the tree because next year...next year might be the one. That first unmagical one. Perhaps, tho, maybe my boys understood the real magic, even with my incessant maternal bungling. No promises and no money back guarantees, but maybe...

Because--

Yes, indeed, Big Boy--why wouldn't you believe? And also...When you find even a tiny bit of magic, a small patch of possible, please promise Mama that you will always, always take it, you will nurture it, and you will keep it safe.

It matters.