My heart took a picture

There's a new family in our cul de sac. They moved in a few months ago with their loads of bright plastic Little Tikes outdoor toys, trikes, wagons, and picnic tables. The family consists of a very nice young couple and two small children, a girl probably around three years old, and a little boy who is no more than a toddler. The dad is the one who stays at home with the kids while the mom works. They're a precious family, and on nice days one can often find the dad outside with the children while they ride around in their little peddle cars, and pull their brightly colored plastic wagons through the cul de sac.

Last night, as I was walking out to the car to leave for Chamber Singers rehearsal, I was met with a sight that was worthy of a Norman Rockwell painting. Like our family, they decorated their home for Christmas over the weekend, and their brightly lit tree sat in the front window of the house. As I looked over towards the end of the cul de sac, I could see the children through the window, all dressed in their pajamas, excitedly dancing around the tree, looks of glee shining as bright as the tree lights, upon their faces. The little girl pointed at several different places on the tree, and then jumped up and down and clapped, while the little boy stood and watched, seemingly mesmerized by the glow.

As I stood and gazed into their living room, I was caught up in the children's excitement, and I heard myself giggle out loud, my whole being warmed by their joy and youthful enthusiasm, and for a moment, I was a child again. I felt for just one instance, what those children felt, and remembered those Christmases, years ago, when I was a child with my family, and my heart took a picture.