She spent all night talking about Santa, asking if he would drive here, or if he would ride in our car, and if he would bring his bag. And she would help him with his bag! She would hold it for him! And could he come to her birthday party? And she would take her soft soft Tinkerbell blanket to the "Nerf Pole" so she could see him. And why was he making toys? And will it be Christmas after she takes a wiwwy good nap?
Many times over the last week I've found myself seeing Sara through my mom's eyes. This isn't new. It's overwhelming but nice, somehow allowing me to imagine that Mom really isn't missing out on these moments: wide, shining eyes as her birthday cake is placed in front of her; eager anticipation of a visit from Santa; the tiniest bear hugs you can imagine and "I wuf you so so much." Truly, I want to burst.
Sara is just now beginning to see the wonder in everything, and I am lucky enough to see it again too thanks to her. Maybe this is why Mom loved Christmas so much -- an annual gift of wonder, the kind you only get from a child.
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