Earlier, Mr. B and I were working side by side making holiday treats for our friends, while the boys stole pieces from plates and stuffed as much as their mouths could hold with the sugary goodness. There was still a little light left in the grey, snowy sky. Neighbors' Christmas lights had begun to turn on for the night, including ours. Bing Crosby belted out holiday cheer through the radio. No one was attached to an electronic device. We were simply together in the moment. And he turned to me and said, "This is how the magic happens. This is what Christmas feels like."
I couldn't have agreed more.
