Here I am, at the farm, fire crackling in the fireplace, snow falling on the horses in the field, happy dog snoozing beside the fire. The tree is full of twinkling lights, all is quiet and peaceful, and I remember other Christmases in other years.
How I loved Christmas when my kids were young. It was magical. Because we struggled to survive all year, on that one day, there was excess, the shrieks of happy children, then quiet, as they retreated to read their new books and I cooked the Christmas feast.
Now my granddaughter is making Christmas magical for her small kids. On Boxing Day I will see them open my gifts and wonder where life will take these small voyagers, along paths we cannot know.
It's Christmas Eve, and I am at the farrm, remembering Christmas across the span of years that have been mine. The journey has been amazing. I am grateful for it all.
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