Chicken Soup for the Soul: Christmas Magic
BY: Natalie June Reilly
For the spirit of Christmas fulfils the greatest hunger of mankind.
~Loring A. Schuler
Love is a funny thing, isn't it? It comes in all shapes and sizes, and you just never know when or where you're going to find it. Sometimes you know exactly where to find it; sometimes it finds you, grabbing hold of your lapels and shaking some sense back into your ever-hardening heart. And then there are times when you find that love was right there where you left it -- not lost, really -- like your car keys or the husband you divorced nine years ago, a man you had one partial life and two beautiful children with.
It was Christmas Day 2008 when I unexpectedly found love again. Oh, it wasn't the romantic kind of love that can go from inferno to fizzle in sixty seconds; it was the old, familiar kind -- the slow burn -- that can only happen between two people who once shared a life, the kind of love that can only happen between those same two people who shared the experience of giving life to two beautiful children. That's the kind of love I'm talking about, and to be honest with you, I didn't even see it coming.
He was just walking me to my car -- Billy, that is, my ex-husband of nine years. I had just dropped our two teenage boys, Billy Boy and Alec, off at his house on Christmas morning. It's been our tradition since the divorce. After powering down breakfast and rifling through stockings at my place, I pack up the car with my boys and a couple of armloads of Christmas booty and head over to their dad's house, never bothering to change out of our pajamas.
It's at his house that we exchange gifts and pleasantries and then -- after a bundle of Christmas hugs and kisses from my kids -- I head back home with empty arms to spend the rest of the day with my mother. Oh, I know; it's not idyllic, but it's as close as we can get, considering.
Over the past couple of years our little tradition has included the new woman in Billy's life, Lisa. And even though I like her and she is good to my boys, it's a little disturbing when you find yourself sharing your family with another woman -- and on such a day as Christmas, too. But such is life when you're a broken family. You learn to deal with it. I suppose it was a little harder on me this year after having just lost my job; I guess you could say that I was already feeling a little emotional, seemingly alone and left out in the cold as it was.
"Natalie, you know that I love you, right?" Billy whispered from out of the blue as we ambled toward my Jeep. His eyes unexpectedly welled up with tears as he -- the consummate tough guy from Long Island -- stood barefoot on that cold sidewalk in December in his green flannel pajamas, wearing his heart on his sleeve. "I will always love you."
Apparently he was feeling a tad schmaltzy, too. I hadn't heard the words "I love you" fall from his lips in a long while and even though I was completely touched by them, it was the tears in those sentimental green eyes of his that caught me off guard, those familiar eyes that brought back so many wonderful Christmas memories.
"I know," I whispered, my heart catching in my throat, as I, too, stood outside in the early morning hours of that cold Christmas day in my red, snowman pajamas, tears welling up in my own green eyes. "I love you, too."
It's not quite the exchange one might come to expect between two ex-spouses with an ocean's worth of water under the bridge. But before I knew it, we were locked in a long embrace, both of us weeping uncontrollably. What is it about Christmas that brings people together, temporarily lowering their defenses, those protective walls we build around our hearts?
It was as if -- for just a moment -- we were all alone, the two of us, held together by the warmth of what was and what is now our family, either that or by the static cling from our flannel pajamas. Who could tell? In any case, we were encapsulated in a proverbial snow-globe moment and we were both a little shaken. Meanwhile, deep down inside -- in places I don't like to talk about at parties -- I knew that Lisa and the boys were waiting inside for him; she would be making breakfast and Christmas memories all her own with my family -- my children. That's not always an easy pill to swallow, even though I know in my heart I wouldn't change a thing -- even if I could.
"We have two great kids together, Nat, and I wouldn't have wanted to take this walk with anyone but you," Billy breathed, giving me that same sideways (deliberate) grin that both my boys give me when they really mean something.
"Ditto," I smiled back.
I reached up onto my tiptoes, my arms squeezing evermore tightly around his neck, hot tears streaming down my cool cheeks and into the thickness of his shoulder. His arms tightened around me, too. And with all the love and sentimentality that Christmas brings with it, as well as all of the love and sentimentality that balls up between two people over the course of eighteen years, Billy and I gave each other a warm peck on the lips and wished each other a happy Christmas.
And it was then -- as he tucked me into my car, shutting the door behind me -- that I realized that even though life has a way of breaking our hearts -- and even breaking apart our families at times -- love is never really lost. In fact it can be found in some of the simplest of places -- many of them locked tight in those Christmas memories both old and new.
BY: Natalie June Reilly
For the spirit of Christmas fulfils the greatest hunger of mankind.
~Loring A. Schuler
Love is a funny thing, isn't it? It comes in all shapes and sizes, and you just never know when or where you're going to find it. Sometimes you know exactly where to find it; sometimes it finds you, grabbing hold of your lapels and shaking some sense back into your ever-hardening heart. And then there are times when you find that love was right there where you left it -- not lost, really -- like your car keys or the husband you divorced nine years ago, a man you had one partial life and two beautiful children with.
It was Christmas Day 2008 when I unexpectedly found love again. Oh, it wasn't the romantic kind of love that can go from inferno to fizzle in sixty seconds; it was the old, familiar kind -- the slow burn -- that can only happen between two people who once shared a life, the kind of love that can only happen between those same two people who shared the experience of giving life to two beautiful children. That's the kind of love I'm talking about, and to be honest with you, I didn't even see it coming.
He was just walking me to my car -- Billy, that is, my ex-husband of nine years. I had just dropped our two teenage boys, Billy Boy and Alec, off at his house on Christmas morning. It's been our tradition since the divorce. After powering down breakfast and rifling through stockings at my place, I pack up the car with my boys and a couple of armloads of Christmas booty and head over to their dad's house, never bothering to change out of our pajamas.
It's at his house that we exchange gifts and pleasantries and then -- after a bundle of Christmas hugs and kisses from my kids -- I head back home with empty arms to spend the rest of the day with my mother. Oh, I know; it's not idyllic, but it's as close as we can get, considering.
Over the past couple of years our little tradition has included the new woman in Billy's life, Lisa. And even though I like her and she is good to my boys, it's a little disturbing when you find yourself sharing your family with another woman -- and on such a day as Christmas, too. But such is life when you're a broken family. You learn to deal with it. I suppose it was a little harder on me this year after having just lost my job; I guess you could say that I was already feeling a little emotional, seemingly alone and left out in the cold as it was.
"Natalie, you know that I love you, right?" Billy whispered from out of the blue as we ambled toward my Jeep. His eyes unexpectedly welled up with tears as he -- the consummate tough guy from Long Island -- stood barefoot on that cold sidewalk in December in his green flannel pajamas, wearing his heart on his sleeve. "I will always love you."
Apparently he was feeling a tad schmaltzy, too. I hadn't heard the words "I love you" fall from his lips in a long while and even though I was completely touched by them, it was the tears in those sentimental green eyes of his that caught me off guard, those familiar eyes that brought back so many wonderful Christmas memories.
"I know," I whispered, my heart catching in my throat, as I, too, stood outside in the early morning hours of that cold Christmas day in my red, snowman pajamas, tears welling up in my own green eyes. "I love you, too."
It's not quite the exchange one might come to expect between two ex-spouses with an ocean's worth of water under the bridge. But before I knew it, we were locked in a long embrace, both of us weeping uncontrollably. What is it about Christmas that brings people together, temporarily lowering their defenses, those protective walls we build around our hearts?
It was as if -- for just a moment -- we were all alone, the two of us, held together by the warmth of what was and what is now our family, either that or by the static cling from our flannel pajamas. Who could tell? In any case, we were encapsulated in a proverbial snow-globe moment and we were both a little shaken. Meanwhile, deep down inside -- in places I don't like to talk about at parties -- I knew that Lisa and the boys were waiting inside for him; she would be making breakfast and Christmas memories all her own with my family -- my children. That's not always an easy pill to swallow, even though I know in my heart I wouldn't change a thing -- even if I could.
"We have two great kids together, Nat, and I wouldn't have wanted to take this walk with anyone but you," Billy breathed, giving me that same sideways (deliberate) grin that both my boys give me when they really mean something.
"Ditto," I smiled back.
I reached up onto my tiptoes, my arms squeezing evermore tightly around his neck, hot tears streaming down my cool cheeks and into the thickness of his shoulder. His arms tightened around me, too. And with all the love and sentimentality that Christmas brings with it, as well as all of the love and sentimentality that balls up between two people over the course of eighteen years, Billy and I gave each other a warm peck on the lips and wished each other a happy Christmas.
And it was then -- as he tucked me into my car, shutting the door behind me -- that I realized that even though life has a way of breaking our hearts -- and even breaking apart our families at times -- love is never really lost. In fact it can be found in some of the simplest of places -- many of them locked tight in those Christmas memories both old and new.
http://www.beliefnet.com/Inspiration/Chicken-Soup-For-The-Soul/2010/10/Exs-and-Ohs.aspx?source=NEWSLETTER&nlsource=49&ppc=&utm_campaign=DIBSoup&utm_source=NL&utm_medium=newsletter&utm_term=mail.ru
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