Merriman Webster defines magic as something that seems to cast a spell: enchantment
I feel leading up to Christmas I’ve been living in a magic world. The village’s main street is under construction. Huge pieces of equipment have torn up the streets leaving gaping holes.
Then as if by magic, the holes were filled and Christmas trees, logs, Père Noël’s sleigh and reindeer appeared. Shop windows had painted scenes and good wishes. Parades, music were everywhere. Buying bread or carrots was no longer an errand but an enchanting walk. It was magic.
The week between Christmas and New Year’s is quieter. The chalets that sold gifts, roasted chestnuts, candles have been taken down, although the rest of the decorations are still up. Some of the summer people are coming for a winter visit and it will be good to see them.
The sense of magic that I've felt over the last few weeks, reminded me of the many times I felt magic, not the big things like hearing my daughter’s first cry, but the smaller things.
Magic is that moment when you know it is so special it can never be recaptured and your entire being swells with happiness.
One such moment was in Lexington with an artist friend, a special friend. We picked up the Midnight Ride of Paul Revere. We took turns reading each stanza.
Another was sitting on the beach with my husband and watching the sky turn from black to stripes of pink, coloring the water and our souls.
And that is what magic does--it colors our souls.