As a child, I used to dream about having a staircase where I could sit on Christmas morning and look down at the tree and fireplace that would be surrounded with all of our presents. We lived in a one-story, 3-bedroom, brick house in the north county suburbs of St. Louis. We didn't have a staircase.
I'd probably seen too many Christmas movies. I'd probably jumped around like a silly kid to Christmas Carols with my siblings too many times. Gene Autry and Burl Ives Christmas Albums still make me cry. And we won't even go into what happens to me when I watch Miracle on 34th Street or It's a Wonderful Life too many times.
Every time I come down the stairs here at the Chatette, I am that little girl again. Sometimes I stop. Sometimes I sit down. When I do, I lean my head into the spindles and I see the magic.
Just this place in this spot is the answer to my little girl Christmas dreams.
I may be pushing 65, but you're never too old to realize that you shouldn't give up your dreams. You never know when and where they might appear!
I'm grateful when mine do!
Happy Wednesday!
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