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How Do Reindeer Fly?

Answering Those Magical Questions

By Lynne Ticknor

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"I am my mother's daughter," I thought to myself.

Later that night, I thought about the word "magical" and how my mother used it to explain the unexplainable. My mind wandered, and I thought about the magical moments that surround everyday experiences. Sometimes a letter arrives in the mail from a friend who has been out of touch for years. Sometimes I learn an important lesson from someone I thought had nothing valuable to teach. Or sometimes I simply notice the warmth of my daughter as we read together.

Such experiences touch my soul without the wisdom or words to explain why they have occurred. They happen when I need them most, affording me the opportunity to be grateful for things I might otherwise take for granted. They truly feel magical.

After bouncing down the steps the next morning asking, "Did Santa come? Did Santa come?" my daughter stood motionless in the center of the room. Her eyes bounced from the stockings to the tree to the presents and back again.

"Go ahead, sweetie," I said. "You can open the presents Santa brought."

My daughter slowly took a few steps forward then turned around. "Mommy, I can't," she said. "Everything looks so ... so ... magical."

My own mom smiled at me from across the room. "Yes, sweetie," I said as I kissed the top of my daughter's head. "The holidays certainly are magical."


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