Merry Christmas

The last presents are wrapped and the stockings stuffed and nothing but adrenaline keeps me from going to bed. That and the peace of this quiet moment.

Christmas Eve was always a magical time. We'd go home late from my grandparents' house, where we had opened presents, sleepily watching the night sky for that tiny sleigh, then crawl into bed with the fragrance of the tree and glittering lights lingering, maybe a sense of peace and wonder too if we had gone to the candlelight service. Contentment filled us, for tomorrow was a play day, the best play day of the year.

I loved recreating the magic for my children. Santa presents were always wrapped in special paper they never saw on anything else, stockings filled with candy and tiny toys and whimsy. Even as their belief gave way, it came back for a few fun moments in the morning. Today, there's no more pretense. The presents are all from us. But that doesn't make it much less magical, and the stockings are still full of fun, useful and silly things.

Now: It's dead quiet outside, cold and foggy, nary a sound. Even the cats are sleeping. I turned off the house Christmas lights, turned off the tree. The inside temperature hovers about sixty. All I hear is the ringing in my ears and a clock ticking.

What do I want for Christmas? That my kids have a fun day. I look at the pile under the tree and conclude they probably will. But none of this is stuff we couldn't get any other time of the year, and some of it is stuff, like clothes, that we do get other times of the year. Is that my wife and children have a fun, relaxing, somewhat magical day my only wish?

No. I'd like two things for Christmas. The small one is that every visitor to this pointless little site, whether out of accident or purpose, has a happy Christmas Day, whether or not it being Christmas means anything to you; that this day, in other words, is a good day, unmarred by troubles, family squabbles, heartaches, unsatisfied hungers, or anything else that will detract from its naturally perfect beauty. The other is a wish -- a silly and pointless wish, unfortunately -- that just for a little while every human heart has love and forgiveness for others, and is simply incapable of any malice. I wish that for a little while, no human being is able to bring himself or herself to hurt another. No matter what the circumstances. Just can't do it.

How long is a little while? How long does it take for a new habit to take hold? About three weeks? Then let's give this wish four weeks to do its work. Imagine if everyone now alive was open to look in their hearts and find a way to do what they believe they must do without allowing it to hurt anyone; and then made that kind of thinking a habit, and never looked back.

That's what I want for Christmas. We'll see what tomorrow brings. Time for me to go sleep on it.