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The Grinch

“Maybe Christmas,” he thought, “doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more!”                                                                                                                                                                                           Dr. Seuss from How the Grinch Stole Christmas!

“Too scary?” I whispered in my husband’s ear.

“Possibly,” he whispered back, stealing a sideways glance at our son, Julian, sitting next to us on the couch. “His eyes are as big as saucers.”

“Should we turn it off?”

“Hmm…not yet,” he settled back into the couch. “Let’s just wait and see what happens. Watching this movie is one of our Christmas traditions, and the scary part is almost over–if you can truly call it ‘scary,’ that is.”

“To a four-year-old it probably is,” I mumbled, staring at the screen in front of me. We were watching Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas, starring Jim Carrey, with the opening scenes perhaps a bit too much for our son at his young age. However, twenty minutes into it, Julian’s eyes returned to their original size.

Soon, we were near the end, at the part where the Grinch’s heart began to grow. Quietly, Julian crawled up onto his dad’s lap. He hugged his arms around his neck while placing his cheek onto his chest, the eyes of both boys glued to the movie that was still playing. I joined in on the snuggle, moving in tight behind Julian to encircle him with my arms while resting the side of my cheek against the back of his head.

It was the scene in which the Grinch returns all of the presents he’s stolen back to the Who’s of Whoville that finally did us in. As the characters on the screen sang carols and embraced one another, Julian slowly lifted his head, an odd expression coming over his face as he turned to look at me, at his dad, then back up at the screen again. His bottom lip started to quiver, and his eyes grew moist with emotion.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, softly.

Like a waterfall sprung loose, tears burst out of his eyes. “It’s just so…so…so merry!” he sputtered, crying harder.

Smiling at his tender heart, yet feeling sad and lonesome at the same time, tears began to trace a path down my cheeks, as well. “It gives you a sense of yearning, doesn’t it?”

“Yes!” he sobbed.

I looked up. By now, my husband was choked up, too.

“I understand,” I soothed, pushing the hair back from Julian’s face. “I understand why you feel like crying.”

“I understand you, too!” Julian exclaimed. “I understand you,” he pointed his finger into my chest, “and, I understand you!” He turned to do the same thing to his dad. Then, rubbing his eyes, he collapsed into the two of us for a big family hug.

Eventually, we managed to laugh at ourselves for crying so hard over a silly movie. After which, Julian did what he always does when I cry. He ran off to find some tissues…then used those tissues to gently dab the tears away from my eyes.

Featured photo by Craig Forsyth on VisualHunt / CC BY-NC-ND. Mountain photo by Mark Faviell Photos on Visual Hunt / CC BY-NC-ND. Snowflake photo by Ed from Ohio on VisualHunt / CC BY-NC-SA. Rock photo by Gunn Shots (Mark Gunn) on Visualhunt / CC BY-NC-ND.

Thank you for “sharing” and “liking” any blog that moves you. Have a special day…♥

Just living is not must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower. ~Hans Christian Andersen

I am a mother, a blogger and the author of the memoir Pitter-Pat: A Mother's Journey from Loss to New Life. I am currently in training to be a life coach through Martha Beck's Wayfinder Life Coach Training Program. I write about grief, love, and the beauty of new beginnings. My other interests are meditating, walking outside and doing pretty much anything that brings me closer to nature.

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