When my brother and I were little, we would sneak out of bed to see if Santa came at, like, three in the morning. I didn't sleep most Christmas eves of my childhood. There are a few middle of the nights under the glow of the tree that I can remember so clearly that I can be right there, I can smell it.
Last night we went to John & Connie's and they took us in with their family and friends. We sang carols by candlelight and, right in the middle of Jingle Bells, Santa arrived with a bag full of presents and his book with the name of every child there. He knew the exact doll Ivy wanted, and the Legos the boys didn't have yet. The magic, we were in it.
I hope I never misplace the look on their faces when he came to the door, and how I felt watching them. And the most precious sight of Ivy zonked in her carseat on the ride home. And when we were together in the home we made for now and everything was so very OK.