Our tall, thin cedar is now laden with ornaments. Over the years, we've collected quite a few sentimental ones. Some the kids have made, others were given by my grandmother for their first Christmas. Some have been handed down as family have passed away and now sit on the branches of our tree, carrying with them, the memories of all the gatherings around my grandmother's tree. I can still hear the doorbell ring and loud welcomes echoing down the hallway as we tried our best to get to sleep before the big man came. We always sung Christmas carols, albeit a little off key, but the vibration of all our voices together left grooves in my heart like a record. Oliver was laying underneath the tree last night staring up through the branches, "You know what I'm doing mom? I'm really enjoying this moment, I want to always remember it." He will, too. I know I remember. Magic.