the most magical time of the year
I often tend to stop and remember the days when I felt the happiest and most alive. Strangely, those are usually the most uneventful, still parts of my life when I often felt peace in solitude.
I was born on a cold hazy evening in the year 1997, making it just before the end of the year. The sky was clear and bright, the air was smoky, the mood was festive and the sun was going down. And of course, the baby me decides it’s a perfect time to show up to this world, startling all the unaware adults at home.
19 years forward, I’m walking down the snowy street, feeling warm and cozy under my enormous squishy winter jacket, face barely peeking out of a pile of knitted scarves. My cheeks felt numb and frozen.
The scenery is busy, but festive. Cars beeping down the road, people briskly walking by, carrying briefcases or shopping bags, and men running by occasionally, hurrying home carrying boxes of cakes.
It’s the only time of the year when the pre-holiday city bustle is not disturbing, but rather complementing the feeling of festivities around. I’m making my way through the street, each of my steps carefully taken as to not slip and fall on the icy sidewalk. I’d take an icy breath in and exhale a thick steam into the frosty winter air.
Snowflakes are slowly, but surely falling down, covering each and every surface. Everything is white with shimmering snow glitters. Few of them are stuck in my eyelashes and I can almost see each and one of them. They are light and very fluffy, and they never fail to awaken the little kid inside me, specifically in two significant ways: (1) there’s always an urgent need to try to catch a snowflake with my tongue, (2) suddenly I feel a strong reassurance that miracles most definitely exist.
Have you ever felt like each and every atom in your body has been “positively” charged, and an all-consuming feeling of wonder and excitement fills you up to the core? My heart, my brain, my whole soul get all tingly. This warm, glistening feeling, emerging from within, awakens all my senses, lightning up like Christmas lights, and I’d once again feel truly alive.
I’d stop by a coffee shop, and get wrapped in its most magnificent aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Here, I choose a cozy seat and get warm. My fingers are red and cold as ice. As I sit there, with christmas songs in the background, I’d usually pull out my laptop and write. Many winters of mine were spent in cafés, working, studying — always challenging but mostly extremely satisfying. But in this season, I write. I pour myself into my writing — my revelations, the happiest moments, heartaches and friendships. I’d feel lighter and healed; it’s my personal way of a therapy.
Suddenly, it gets dark outside and the pitch-black evening emerges. As if on command, the city lights go ON, and so does the fire inside me. Now, I’m truly there, heart full of faith and anticipation of the magic🌟
It’s the weirdest, the strongest, completely unjustified feeling of assurance that something I deeply desire is going to happen soon somehow no matter what. I don’t exactly know what is this thing, but no matter what it is, how irrational or impossible it may seem, I whole-heartedly would believe it will absolutely come true.
And in the end, whatever happens, isn’t that by itself the rarest feeling ever? The one we must cherish and preserve, especially as we get older? Sometimes, feeling so faithful and excited is all we need. For us, forever dreamers and “feel”-ers, it’s the greatest form of manifistation and the most comforting way to truly enjoy the present moment. Give in to this feeling, let it in and notice the miracle happen💫
