I'm feeling a little wistful this year because I fear that it may be the last Christmas that we have a true believer in our family. Our youngest child is 9 and in the fourth grade. I was a year younger when I found out that there was no such thing as Santa. Or as I remember it, the day I took my first step into adulthood.
We caught the girls playing with one another's hair, singing to each other in the long lines, helping with stuck zippers or big words. They slept in a tangle each night and ran shoulder-to-shoulder all day. They were aware of each other in a way that they are of their friends, "Oh, you, yes, I like you. Let's laugh together."