The Eyes of Christmas


My family’s Christmas tree shining in all its glory. (Photo Credit: Madola Nassar).

Mary Nassar, News Editor, Creative Writing Editor

As I snuggle into my sherpa blanket, the warmth from my mug of hot chocolate seeps into my skin. I look at the twinkling of the lights on the Christmas tree, the softest of smiles gracing my lips. My family and I are watching “The Santa Clause,” one of our favorite Christmas movies, and when I look around the living room to see my parents and sister all laughing at something Tim Allen said, their faces aglow with pure, unadulterated joy, something in my heart stirs, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

As I settle into watching the movie, my mind wanders to the events of the past year. To put it lightly, this past year has emotionally taken a toll on meand really my whole family, and with the holiday season fast approaching, I think we’ve all seen the stress start to manifest itself in physical ways, shooting pains in our necks, tensing our muscles, throbbing, dull aches in our foreheads, lethargy slowing our bodies down, making no amount of sleep we snatch ever enough.

But gazing at our Christmas tree, bedecked in sparkling gold and glittering crimson ornaments, with a beautiful star peeking out at the top and bright white lights poking out in between the branches, the stress subsides just a little bit. It doesn’t completely go away, but its roar is a tad quieter. It feels more manageable, like I don’t have to carry the weight of all the worries in the world on my shoulders. The glow of the Christmas tree illuminating my living room with its undying light reminds me of the presence of joy in life, even amidst the snow storms and freezing winters life hails down on us all. Even amidst the storms my family has weathered this year, we’re still here, laughing at the pure genius that is “The Santa Clause,” gulping down our hot chocolate like it’s nectar sent from the gods, and reveling in each other’s company.

All under the gentle, loving eye of our Christmas tree.

My parents and sister dying of laugher snaps me back into the present moment, and as I turn my eyes back toward the T.V. to see another one of Tim Allen’s iconic mishaps, I am grateful for being here. Not just in the metaphysical sense of me being alive in the time I am, but in the sense of me being here lying down on this Pottery Barn couch, in my living room, watching a Christmas movie with my family.

All under the gentle, loving eye of our Christmas tree.