I’m not sure how old I was when my aunt made my mom the Santa’s Village? Small enough to find the little buildings completely magical! Young enough to spend what felt like hours (and was probably only minutes) looking inside each of the little shops and imagining that an entire world was transpiring just beneath me. It was my most favorite of all the decorations to go up. That little village was the magic of Chritmas for me.
I have grown up (technically). But I find that it’s still very easy to get lost in the magic of Christmas, especially as Taylor and I try to create it for our own sweet kiddo’s. This year the magic came full circle when my mom brought me Santa’s Village. It’s my turn to set up the village and recreate the magic. As I made the finishing touches and sprinkled down the last of the snow I found myself caught in a rare and wonderful moment. I felt the wonder of my childhood at the same time that I felt the sweetness of motherhood. I was feeling what it must have been like for my mother at the same moment I was remembering the wonder that my own children will now feel.
The lights never go off. I can’t bare to think of the North Pole dark. When everyone is asleep and I’m finishing loading the last dish in the washer, I find myself just staring and remembering fanciful stories of Santa’s magical village – that once again, sits just beyond me.