I always believed my family lived inside one of those soft, sentimental holiday scenes where everything feels warm and full of love. Hayden still slips little notes into my coffee mug after all these years, and our daughter, Mya, has a way of asking questions that make the world seem kinder and more hopeful.
Every December, I do everything I can to keep the magic alive for her. When she was younger, I turned our living room into a snow globe with cotton draped over the shelves and lights tucked into every corner. Last year, we organized neighborhood caroling, and she led the group with pride. When she told me it was the best Christmas ever, it felt like all the work was worth it.
This year, my special surprise was a pair of tickets to The Nutcracker, wrapped in gold paper and tucked under the tree. I imagined the joy on her face when she discovered them.
In the days leading up to Christmas, she was as curious and imaginative as ever. While decorating the tree, she wondered aloud how Santa’s reindeer could fly all night without getting tired. At the mall, she shared the same thoughts with Santa and even suggested they might want different sandwich options. I thought it was adorable, not realizing how much she had planned.
Christmas Eve was warm and bright, filled with lights, familiar recipes, and the kind of excitement only children feel. Mya twirled in her red dress outside, calling the lights “fallen stars.” We tucked her into bed early, and she drifted off with a smile.
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