It comes back to me slow.
I remember first the long cold and the black dark, glowing city street lamps lighting the way. Bells must have tinkled when we pushed open the heavy glass doors- it was that sort of store. A Christmas place... sweet smelling, with crates and bins full of tiny ornaments, and tree after tree, brightly lit and shining. My aunt took me there, one of my mother's younger sisters, dark-haired and vivacious and her nails were always done. She had winter gloves with fur on them, and her apartment was peach-pink, apricot and rose, full of femininity and loveliness. I loved looking at her things, and caring for them. Somehow when you care for something, you love it. She took me through the dark cold night into that beautiful place, and I'll spend a little of every Christmas trying to re-create some of that magic for my own children. A little brightness, a little warmth, it's cold outside and here, we're warm. God is in his heaven, and in his earth- one day all will be right with this world.
Merry Christmas.
