The Best Christmas Ever

My sister and I were lucky-when we were little every Christmas was a good Christmas. We had family, we had Santa, and we had enough chocolate to outfit a village in a third world country. Not every kid can say that and we aren't dummies-we know we had it good.
However, when you get older Christmas changes. You realize Santa is less a physical entity and more the spirit of giving, the chocolate sticks to your hips like a drowning man clutching a life preserver, and it seems like traffic get's worse every year. Finding the Magic of Christmas get's difficult when you grow up.
Christmas 1996 is the year I got my magic back. My sister and I were sharing a car and she wanted to borrow it to go see a friend. It was December 23. I don't know why but I had a bad feeling. If I could have I would have kept the car keys I would have, but I had no earthly reason to not be a good sister and let her have the car that night. But I left a note telling her to be careful. Sure enough, about 1:30a we got a call-she'd been in an accident. I had my shoes on before my mom was off the phone, and fearing the worse but hoping for the best since Alina called under her own authority, we drove out to Oregon City. The car, and Alina's muscles, were toast. She was sore all over and had some impressive bruises, and her back would never be the same, but she was able to go home. The car had rolled on an oil slick that had caused multiple accidents that night. The roof caved in 3 inches and when the fireman showed up at the hosipital the next day to return her stuff, they were shocked she was home. We never saw the car again the wreckage was that bad.
Christmas Eve I went up to Nick's house and I got home after everyone was in bed. The tree was lit, the twinkle lights that played music were humming their tune, and everyone but me was snuggled in bed, some with the help of pain killers. It was like the end of the movie "A Christmas Story" when Ralphie says that all was right with the world. That was exactly how I felt-all was right with the world. Everyone was safe and sound, there were presents I couldn't wait to see opened and they weren't for me, and it truly felt like Santa had been over our house, even if he didn't stop because their were no children.
Ever since then, every year, Christmas seems magical. It is like being a kid all over again. The lights, the trees, the shopping, the finding the perfect gift for people, the helping out our fellow man-I love it all. And every year I go to bed Christmas Eve and I feel like Santa is flying over my house at some point in the night. Do I blame my sister? Partly. Nothing reminds you what is truly important then being a part of circumstances you can't control-of watching someone wince in pain when they simply go to the bathroom. Maybe if Alina had had her accident two days before Independence Day, I would be writing about the best Fourth of July ever. But I also liek to think that maybe a little maturity kicked in too. Whatever, 1996 was the best Christmas ever, along with every Christmas since.