Make the Season Bright

We are already in the midst of our second snowstorm of the season, which is hitting in just about as many days as the first one.  I know I'll be singing quite a different tune later this winter, after I'm up to my eyeballs in the cold, ice, and snow, but for now, I can't help but feel content to revel in the beauty of this quiet storm.  For December often gives us the magic snowstorms, you know.  With various shops, restaurants, and houses decked out in their holiday finest, the snow sparkles and the city streets glisten.  They are the storms where, if you walk home passing other urban dwellers with a quick nod as they scurry to their own warm homes or heated cars, you'll find that the city is just still enough, that it is blanketed with the soft sort of snow that sparkles in the streetlights, and that you can still somehow feel like anything is possible; that enchantment and peace truly do exist, that buried inside each and everyone of us is still that little girl (or boy) who squealed with glee as the first flakes of a snowstorm began to fall; who still - in their heart of hearts - believes there is magic out there to be witnessed; a Christmas spell to fall under.

Last weekend a few friends came over on Sunday to bake and decorate sugar cookies.  I've lost track of how many years in a row we've done this, though my educated guess is we've just hit year number five.  When we were planning our gathering this time around, it felt like we had the routine down to a bit of a science.  We always meet at my apartment on a Sunday afternoon in December, we always divvy up who brings what ingredients. As soon as the girls arrive we always get right down to the business of baking. Well, actually, we open a bottle of wine first.  Then we bake.  As the cookies cool we eat an early dinner of chili I've had in the crock pot all day, and then - right after we open a second bottle of wine, of course - we ice and decorate those cookies.  Now I don't want to burst your bubble, but I am here to tell you that bakery and store bought sugar cookies are the fanciest.  Icing them with the hopes they'll look professional is far more challenging than it looks.  But it's no matter.  My friends and I catch up and swap stories as we decorate, almost always dissolving into giggles over someones story...or, more likely, their most recent icing cookie victim.

This year, as my friends and I swapped stories about our own childhood Christmases, sharing memories of our favorite gifts or Santa Claus visits or the sheer, unparalleled magic and bottled excitement that came each Christmas Eve, my friend Lauren made a comment.  "There is nothing like that feeling of discovering Santa arrived, when you still believed, is there?  Nothing in this entire world."

She's right of course.  I've been so blessed and lucky in this life and I've had plenty of wonderful, amazing surprises occur throughout my years.  But, oh, that sheer thrill of running downstairs to a sea of packages spread out under the tree?  After being absolutely sure that you heard Santa's reindeer atop of the roof the night before?  I swear if someone could bottle that emotion, they'd be a millionaire overnight.

As the evening wore on we finished our wine and decorated our last cookie it was time to say goodbye to another successful year of sugar cookie baking.  After my friends and I divvied up the cookie spoils and I bid them adieu at my doorstep with wishes for a Merry Christmas, I climbed the two flights of stairs back to my apartment, thinking.  As I began to clean up the kitchen, I realized that, without ever intentionally planning it, these friends and I had started one of our own traditions. Which I hope, even as we were down one sick friend this year, the four of us will be able to maintain for many more years to come. 

Because I guess that's really the best way for traditions to unfold, after all.  You don't plan them or expect them.  But then suddenly, like magic, they have simply arrived.  Both on your calendar and in your heart.