But then Cora came into our lives, so last year we went out and cut a tree at our favorite Christmas tree farm. She was a year-and-a-half old, and was fascinated by the glitter and lights, especially the string of lights that alternates with Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse. She wasn't talking well then, but she did try to say "Minnie Mouse" every time she examined those lights.
In all the time we've had with Cora I am almost speechless at the wonder and amazement a little kid has for the things in this world that are nothing special to us. We see, through her eyes, all the objects and events to which we have become jaded due to over-exposure, and the universe resumes some of its former glory.
After Thanksgiving this year, I debated about getting a tree again; Cliff refused to voice an opinion. "Whatever you want to do," he would say.
Well, I didn't want the mess. I really don't like crowding up the living room, taking one chair away to make room, needles all over the floor (if I'm going to have a tree, it will be a real one). The tree farm where we get our Christmas trees is only open on weekends, and I figured last Sunday was the time to decide one way or another. Remembering how Cora enjoyed last year's tree, I decided to go for it. When we got there, I was stunned by how much a real tree costs these days.
I was equally stunned when Cora's mother brought her in Monday morning and I saw the look on that little girl's face. "What's that, Donna?" she asked, walking, wide-eyed, to the tree.
|getting a closer look at Mickey Mouse|
That little Santa dressed in white has become her best friend lately. She dances with him and carries him around the house, although I finally drew the line when she wanted to take him with her every time she went to potty. He's almost as big as she is, and I was afraid she might not make it to the bathroom in time, dragging him along.
Merry Christmas to all my friends, and may you have a child around to open your eyes to the magic of the season and the world. God bless us every one.