At the end of the year we remember...

This year is coming to its final month. As usual we think about Christmas celebrations, gifts, turkey etc. We remember about letters we still have to write, calls to make, friends we forgot to write to for a year and now we feel like it's now or never. We still have to find time for that.

I dream about Christmas lights and decorations of my childhood. In my country it was just New Year's celebration, but we still had a fur tree decorated with glass balls and plastic toys, with snowflakes and candles, small one made especially to put on a tree and foil serpentine, lots of it.
 I remember that big tree, richly decorated standing in my room. How nice it was to go to bed and see in the dark mysteriously alien and wondrously familiar tree, all that sparkle and little jingling of the tree toys on it when somebody would pass by it touching it slightly. You go to bed and wake up with that wonderful smell of holiday and presents, with hope and promise that never realised but was so pleasant to anticipate.
You wait for a miracle of something wonderful, something amazing but at the end nothing wonderful happens and you are still happy with all that holiday glamor and light and smell and taste of Christmas candies and nuts, and home made cookies. Lots of treats, lots of modest presents, that can fill your heart - small child's heart with joy and gratitude and hope. Something you'll never forget. Something that stays with you into your adulthood. Something that you see in the eyes of you children on a Christmas Eve. Something that makes our life worth living.
Happiness is made of little things and this is one of them.