I love Christmas trees. I can feel a sort of magic in their glow, a charm which has the power to revive my childish spirit, the one which still looks in wonder at the myriads colourful lights and baubles hanging from the branches. It also brings back memories of my past, the majority of which, I have to say, are indissolubly linked to my father. He loved this time of the year so much. Christmas decorations were his seasonal pastime and he was very meticulous in his creative act indeed. It took him days to study all the mechanisms of the nativity scene and find the best spot to place it, but he mostly excelled in making Christmas trees. They were real artworks. When I was a little girl I enjoyed watching him being intent in giving life to what I interpreted to be the spirit of Christmas. I loved it so much that when I became old enough I was happy to share this family tradition with him and in time I found myself preserving it for him. When I turned on the lights, the magic always worked as I could still see a joyful sparkle appear in his old dark eyes. It is no wonder that he decided to leave us on Christmas Day. It seems it couldn’t have been otherwise.
Yet, I never associate Christmas to sad events, and I would have more than one reason to do it, I can assure you, as for some strange twist of fate, catastrophes and tragedies have always happened during Christmas time in my life. And do you know why? Because that magic still has a hold on me. Every year when I start to make my Christmas tree the amazing charm of the lights seems to silence sorrows and bad memories are obscured for a while by their joyous twinkling. This is what I call the Christmas spirit.
Hence, I want to turn on the lights of my Christmas tree and share their powers with you, wishing you happiness and joy. At least for a while. Merry Christmas.