scribblechic

Today was our children’s last day of school before Christmas vacation. With no great demands upon our day, my husband and I indulged in the gift of time. We visited a bakery, laughing at the foolishness of our whim amid the chaos of their busyness, and tended to a last-minute gift in a familiar shop around the corner from yesterday.

It was this unhurried contentment that cast a spell upon our children’s return from school. Homework forgotten and housekeeping postponed, we settled into a string of old movies and simple distractions. Trading stories of our day and falling into companionable silence.

I doodled cherished characters onto blank gift tags the way I once sketched stories onto school day napkins tucked into lunch boxes. Our daughter filled in the gray pencil outlines with color until each personality took shape. Eventually we traded markers, delighted with our efforts, happily lost to the work of play.

Play became dinner and dinner became stories by the fireplace; our coffee table covered in beloved picture books from holiday’s past. We took turns reading sentimental favorites in funny voices until the sky demanded we admire the uncluttered canvas of stars that seemed to apologize for the absence of snowflakes.

It was magic; peace and joy crafted from paper and words, stars and stolen minutes. Little nothings made into something extraordinary.

Tagged: Christmas, Family, Musings