Snow. There should be snow. And mistletoe. And someone I actually want to kiss under it. And children singing carols. Father Get Up and Bake Your Pies, Here We Come A-Caroling, Maybe a reindeer or two? Maybe one with a bright red shiney nose! And how about a great big roaring fire in the fireplace? An, then it might seem like Christmas!
I am of course in Southern California. In my homeland, Michigan, we would be treated to the smell of rutabega cooking on the stove, my Uncle Frank's cherry tobacco in his favorite pipe. Pumpkin pie. Mincemeat. Roast turkey and ham. And there would be sleigh bells in the air, silver bells in the city and church bells pealing in joy. Hustle and bustle as the day of gifting approaches. A dash of wonder in the clear blue sky as we gaze up skyward to see the twinkling stars, watching for the the Star that would guide us.
These are a few of my favorite things. "Should be's" and "used to be's" and "might still be somewhere, somehow". Dreams of white Christmas, of being home for Christmas, of sugar plums dancing in our heads. The joys of Christmas as the movies would have us believe it to be. Miracles on 34th Street and a wonderful life.
Somehow I know Jesus and Santa would get along. The Buddha and Krishna and Mohammed would enjoy a cup of nog together. I believe in all of it this time of year. There is magic. It is a thin place where the veil between the heavens and the earth evaporates for a time. Like Scrooge we emerge from the house shouting "Merry Christmas!" after a night where we were visited by the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future.
I do believe. Here comes Santa Claus. Jesus was born in the manger of a virgin. The world will be as one. There should be snow, at least a flurry, so soften soften the chill of a winter's night.