It seems that people like to write and read about how hard it is at Christmas time. We complain about the crowded malls, we gripe about the money spent and we lament all the food we consume. But I confess that I love this time of year. I love it all. The tree, the shopping, the cookies, the presents, even the commercials (at least some of them).

Of course, I don’t really like sitting in traffic, I only wish I liked baking cookies for hours on end, and I’m a stressed out wreck over  getting just the right gift for everyone on my list. But there is something more going on here. Something hugely important. We’re living out stories – stories that can amuse, inspire,  or simply entertain. It’s how we connect with each other.

The joys, the disappointments, the thrills, the frustrations – they’re fodder to fuel both fiction and non-fiction. So as you wrap bleary eyed into the wee hours of the morning, as you sit in an airport far from you festive dinner table, as you fly in a sleigh around the word, keep in mind that this is far more than just an experience of the moment, it’s a memory that can be turned into a tale to be told for years to come.

Alvin the Elf on the Shelf and Barbie making mischief.