There's something about the first snowfall close to Christmas that carries its own magic with it. There's nothing like a snowy night in December, and a photo album, to remind us of how lucky we actually are to love and be loved by the people we hold dear, especially the ones whose absence we feel, due to geographic or other distance. The older I get, the more grateful I am that that awareness has come to me at an age where it's still useful, and where it has pracitcal, tangible, real applicability. I used to think "the Christmas spirit" was getting excited by lights, snow, buying gifts, and remembering childhood. Now I think it really is about the luxury of having blessings to count, and no blessing is sweeter to count than decades-long friends, and those memories
