Time seems motionless for so much of life, and then all of a sudden you are confronted suddenly with the weight and reality of its passing. You can see it so easily in children, so much less easily in everyday life. Today I had one of those moments - realizing that I've spent more than seven years in this city, and that all of those years have evaporated down into just a scatter of memories, many of which have already long disappeared from my brain.
So, it's almost Christmas now, again. The older I get, and the more years that pass full of responsibilities and working and trying to make a life for myself, the harder it becomes to really remember what it was like to be a child. I'm not saying that my childhood was perfect; it wasn't, but it was wonderful. I feel like I've spent a lifetime trying to recapture the lightness of those years I spent barefoot and climbing trees, completely unselfconscious. Back when I didn't just believe in magic, but really felt it everywhere and even conjured it myself.
Every Christmas when I see all the lights and hear those same songs, I still feel a little bit awed and excited all over again. I really believe that a part of all that childhood magic still lives inside me somewhere, dormant maybe, in a part of my brain. And a little bit of it comes alive again in me around Christmas. I think it's the closest I come to remembering - or rather, forgetting, the weight of all these intervening years.