All our ambition comes to a head at Christmas. In lights, gifts, baking, parties. We go all out for beauty and celebration of all that is best.
And you smile. Because you're a Father. The very best.
And when we find ourselves weary worn, sugared out, and slightly to very depressed, you say "Come here, my darling girl, and rest."
You are not harsh or hard to please. No, you're all that's good. All that we love. You are the smells, sights, and joy . . . all that we yearn to hold on to in this season.
You are cozy. Like the soft warm blankets and slippers we wrap around our bodies and souls like a cocoon.
We want to stay.
But the Christmas "season" ends. Decorations must be packed away, schedules resumed. Back to the day to day.
But You stay. And You are all the ambition of my heart.
So Christmas, the very best, it lasts forever.
