I can be a big cynic. Anyone who knows me knows that I often have a wry comment for everything. And if you really know cynics, you know beneath the cynicism beats the heart of a real softy.
The Holiday Season brings it out in me - the softy, I mean. I guess I really believe in miracles. I believe in the season. I was watching a stupid ole TV show, and it was a Christmas episode, and of course, the "Christmas Miracle" came true in it - and I found myself quietly smiling and tearing up a little. I mean, life doesn't always wrap up with a neat little bow in 30 perfect minutes, but I love the thought of miracles and redemption during the holidays.
Life is hard, and it's hard all year - I guess I really get sentimental when I think about getting that little boost at the end of the year. I like talking to old friends I haven't spoken with in a while. I love seeing my family, especially people I haven't seen in forever. I love remembering friends and family who've passed on. I love finding that little gift or thing that someone I love really wanted, and giving it to them for Christmas. I love seeing the kids rip open their presents and the sheer joy they experience. I love seeing people put aside their differences, and sharing a good moment. I like eating the food!
I like feeling like I'm still part of something good - in a larger sense, I enjoy seeing people being good to one another, at least for a little while. You know, I always used to wish for some kind of Christmas Miracle for myself - and, in my youth, of course the wishes were more selfish. You know, wishing for "things" or "money" or whatever. All that time, though, I was getting the miracle. I was given the miracle of the Holiday Spirit, and the friends and family to deliver that to me. It's still going on, thank God, even after all I've been through and that's probably the greatest miracle I could ask for.