The Ghosts of Christmas Past

Another Christmas has come and gone (so has my camera, apparently, although I still have hope it will miraculously turn up...but I digress). This year, my sister and her family came to stay with my parents and I for Christmas, and consequently, the last couple of days have been much more adventurous than usual. Some of the following may sound familiar to you with your own festivities:

4 girls so excited for Christmas morning that 2 of them couldn't get to sleep until after midnight...
a living room full of torn paper, electronic toys, books, plastic toys, new clothes, 4 kids and 6 adults...
donuts and scrambled eggs for breakfast....
playing wii games...
random things wrapped up and given to everyone by the 5-year-old because she wanted to share more in the wrapping and giving...
a Christmas Eve nativity pageant complete with an angel, a shepherd, a wisegirl, a pianist, 2 stuffed sheep, and a 6'2" tall Joseph who had to walk around on his knees (my brother was a good sport)...
toys and dress-up clothes spread throughout the house...
a lot of candy and some regular food...
a new Nintendo DS...
a visit from another sister and HER family (bringing the adult count to 8 and the kids to 6)...
Christmas music....
and much more.

(I would have added pictures to illustrate, but, well....the missing camera thing I mentioned before...)

I found myself cleaning and preparing the house for my family's arrival yesterday and ruminating, as we adults often do, on the magic of my childhood Christmases, wondering why it just doesn't feel the same anymore.

The dollhouse my grandpa made me one Christmas when I was about 7 or 8 is the gift I remember most, and it resides now in my home, played with occasionally by nieces and nephews. In my straightening of the toys in the playroom, I discovered a tiny kitchen chair I recognized as one of the pieces of furniture my grandpa constructed so many years ago.

I sat down and allowed some memories to wash over me for a few moments. My own excitement that night so long ago when I couldn't fall asleep next to my older sister on the floor of my grandparents' bedroom in Mesa. How we whispered to each other late into the night. How I slept a little, then woke when all was quiet and dark, tiptoeing out into the living room and spying a large dollhouse shape. Hurrying back to my bed on the floor and shaking my sister awake to tell her what I'd seen. Making a pact to not tell anyone and act surprised the next morning when I walked into the room (a pact I kept until this year when I asked my mom if she ever knew I was faking it - she didn't.) Eating sugar cereal for breakfast on Christmas morning (my mom admitted that was not the best idea she ever had). My grandpa ringing "Santa's" sleigh bells outside.

Unfortunately, I have allowed some of the magic of Christmas to slip away from me since then. There are many reasons for this, which I won't go into, but this weekend my nieces and nephews brought the magic back, just with their presence. And I am content.