I spent the day with two of my many nephews-and-one-niece. They were a kick. One four-and-a-half, one two-and-a-half, and both outrageous bundles of small-child energy and creativity. Little ones sometimes help us let go and really play, something we forget how to do as adults. We have toys, and we play with them, but it is rare that we can tap the joy of invention that children have.
I tried to play with Legos a few years ago, and found that I couldn’t quite remember how. Inspired today by the requests of the kids, I was an airplane, a dinosaur, a chaser of giant spiders, and all-around thing-to-be-jumped-on.
And it was wonderful.
Christmas seems to make me happy and sad at the same time. Perhaps that’s nostalgia? So much history and memory is tied up in this one holiday that it is never quite new, never quite experienced only going forward. There is always the sweet tang of Christmases past. Memories of loves lost seem strongest this day of all days, yet everything is just as it should be.
At the least, everything is as it is, which is a damn sight better than it could have been, and that thought leaves me quite content.