Remembering Chritmas Magic

Meandering down the highway on a brisk December day.  Limestone wall to the left, frost kissed fields to the right. The only sound is the tires on the pavement and the thoughts within my head.  A cool breeze blowing while the early morning sun blazed on the horizon.  

Tucked between two giant stone walls, just off the road, but hidden if you hurry, sat the home that Chritmas carols were written about.  Beautiful red brick, wreaths placed upon the windows with ribbons in the perfect place.  The porch had rockers, inviting you to visit.  

Somewhere in the time and space of life, the magic of Christmas has faded. The childlike joy and excitement have been traded for busy lives and bills. Holiday jingles are a reminder of needed gifts, miles to travel, memories expected to be made. 

More miles, more thoughts, tires rolling along the pavement of life.  The limestone is masculine and strong, hiding the world behind it.  Nooks, crannies and crevices, with trees standing majestically upon the top. The fields roll on for miles,  with snow resting quietly ontop. 

Wizard Wisdom 101

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