This is the first Christmas in twenty-two years that my daughter won’t be home for Christmas. It has caused me to reflect on our family traditions and all the heartwarming memories that they trigger. One of my fondest is when my daughter was four and riding with me to scout a basketball game. I’m a college coach and she accompanied me to practices and games until she went to elementary school.
At the time she was in pre-school and learning about many multi-cultural holiday traditions. Her class was singing Christmas carols and she suggested that we take turns singing to one another on the drive. The thought alone struck terror in my heart since I cannot carry a tune in a bucket. She however insisted that I go first so, I did. The terror of the moment or age has taken the memory of what I sang from me. However, when I completed the song she clapped loudly yelling “Bravo, bravo mamma.” It brings a happy tear to my eye as I write this. She loved me enough in the spirit of the season to forgive my off key singing. Christmas truly does create its own magic.