The best kind of magic

The holidays are over and I'm back at school. Apparently, I define "holidays" as December through my birthday, and the subsequent two weeks.

I'm posted up in my apartment editing my thesis proposal over and over, already dreading PATH exams that will take place in exactly sixteen days. If I were Catholic, I'd be doing the sign of the cross a lot these days.

Needless to say, my brain is in academic mode. Especially since it can no longer be in holiday mode. Which is what we're really here to talk about anyway.

The holidays.

Early in December I saw an episode of Parenthood where the mother is trying to keep her kid from finding out Santa isn't real. She said she doesn't want to tell the kid so that the kid can have a few more years of "Christmas magic."

So I got offended.

Here is what I remember about uncovering Santa's dirty little secret: One day I asked my best friend how Santa gets to all the houses in one night and she responded, "Timezones." Instead of saying that Santa still couldn't get to every kids house, even with a handicap, I just shrugged it off. And that's when I kinda figured it was just something your parents tell you for fun.

Kinda like "Never eat anything blue" (um...M&Ms? Hullo?) or "The neighbors don't want to see your [super chic] Dalmatian underwear."

I would hardly say the magic of Christmas was swiped from my fat little fists over a timezone debate.

And, as a matter of fact, the magic of Christmas just amplifies every year.

Let's be honest, I wrote a whole blog about why Jesus doesn't matter, so I don't exactly correlate him with Christmas. Plus, there's biblical evidence he was born in pretty much any season but winter, so the whole "reason for the season" thing is a bit off. (Side note: isn't being born pretty petty compared to, oh, I don't know, raising from the dead? Christians should be focusing way more on Easter than Christmas anyway, am I right? They could have at least picked something more logical to represent it than a bunny that delivers eggs filled with candy. Talk about identity crisis. No wonder kids figure these things out.)

But I digress.

Point being, the Christmas season, and consequentially Christmas magic, has little to do with my idea of Christmas. It's about giving - I get more and more excited to give my sisters gifts as I grow up. It's about time together, laughing like we're kids instead of adult professionals, and pretending we can do advanced yoga moves and then proving it in front of the TV while mom yells "You're gonna hurt yourself!" It's about recharging from the energy you only have when you're together, and celebrating each other's triumphs and opportunities (a new puppy! a job search!). And it's about knowing the people around you are there during all the times. Whatever adjective used for those times, the people that create that Christmas magic are there for them.

This Christmas was unusual for our family. We had to memorialize the passing of one of our own just days before the holiday. But shortly after, my mom told me that when she stood up to give the eulogy, she stood up with the power of eight behind her. She was not alone.

And that, my friends, is Christmas magic.