Thursday, December 23, 2010

Peppermint Wishes

Winter came down to our home one night
Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow,
And we, we were children once again.

~Bill Morgan, Jr.

There is something so magical about this time of year.

It's wintertime.


The snowflakes are falling, whispering their gentle way from the grey sky to join hundreds of their compatriots that already coat the frozen ground.

Sparkling lights adorn the eaves of roofs and twinkling Christmas trees can be seen peeping through the curtains of darkened homes.

The air smells of ice, balsam, hot chocolate, peppermint sticks, and the wishes of hundreds of children who dream of Santa Claus and brimming stockings.

Fireplaces flicker over the toes of children, clustered around while carols play from the stereo and laughter provides its own merry soundtrack to the homey scene laid out to delight any casual passerby.

Christmas does something to my heart.

I love the sight of a fresh-cut pine tree, adorned with white lights and sentimental ornaments, almost toppling over from the lift of the carefully wrapped packages that have been secretly placed there by loving hands.

I love the whisper of the falling snow and the smell of the frosty air that burns and delights your nose at the same time.

It's only at this time of year when I crave the taste of peppermint -- a taste which I normally avoid.

My nose itches to smell cinnamon spice and "Winter Balsam" candles. My ears tingle at the sound of some instrumental Christmas arrangement, or the thudding heartbeat of the Trans-Siberian Orchestra blasting from my iPod dock.

Call me a child. Call me a sentimental fool.

I don't care.

It's Christmas.

It's a time for peppermint wishes and sugerplum dreams.

It's the most magical time of the year -- when blizzards can be forgiven and the troubles of the morning are glazed over in the love of a family and the flavor of gingerbread.

If growing up means I have to leave this all behind...if it means I must become sensible and view Christmastime as nothing but a mad rush to spend money and obtain obscene amounts of stress...

...then I never want to grow up.

1 comment:

I look at you and see all the ways a soul can bruise, and I wish I could sink my hands into your flesh and light lanterns along your spine so you know there's nothing but light when I see you. :: Shinji Moon