Christmas is a season of magic.
Time moves in all directions--past, present, future.
I stood on my tiptoes, hanging a wreath on the tall mirror, and I glimpsed my reflection. I didn't see a 64-year old woman. I saw a brown-eyed girl with curly hair and a snub nose, a kid who loved pecan pralines and make-believe. And I remembered that Christmas makes us all time travelers, pulling us backward into childhood.
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