I walk slowly from our bedroom, through the old french doors of the soon-to-be "kids' room" and towards the glow of the living room. You are bundled up against me, just above my big pregnant belly, barefoot and wide-eyed. The old crooked floors creak with each of my steps as we approach the living room door. We step through and you see the lights and the draping ribbons and the majestic angel. You gasp a tiny baby gasp and say "Wow."
I walk you up close to see the tree and your hand reaches out for it. You place one fingertip on a shining miniature light bulb and look up at me, asking with your curious gaze if it's ok to touch. I smile down at you and encourage you to explore. Feel the tree. Touch the ornaments. Smell the pine. Discover the magic.
Your hand brushes through the branches, pinches the lace ribbon, points up at the pink-gowned angel. And then you turn to me, smile, and lean in and kiss the tree. We both laugh. Oh what a funny, wonderful, amazing girl you are.
Although this is your second Christmas, it is your first year with a tree, and a stocking, and Hanukkah. It is your first holiday season done right and proper. Last year, when you were a tiny little thing, we skipped all of the tradition and celebration and simply went to volunteer on Christmas Day. You brought so much light and joy to everyone you met that day.
But now all of the light and joy is yours to feel, as you discover each sight, smell, and sound of the season. And each time your eyes widen and another whispered "Wow" escapes your lips, your Papa and I are washed over with love and pride. We have always made it a point to keep childlike magic and wonder a part of our everyday lives, and to rejoice in the small beauties of the everyday. And you, my daughter, only magnify it all. Watching you discover the world around you for the very first time is truly a privilege, and an inspiration.
Oh my little tree-kissing Biet, the holiday season has never been so alive with magic.