I paused on the sidewalk, looking up through bare branches at the dark sky, clouded over and tinged with orange city light. “It stopped snowing.”
Cody, who had continued past me, halted when my hand couldn’t reach any farther. I heard him tilt his head up too. “Did you want it to snow?”
“Not if it means meddling with the weather,” I said, stern as I recognized what was behind his seemingly innocent question.
He grinned at me. “But meddling is fun.”
“Yes, well – so is just letting the weather be. Michigan’s crazy enough all by itself.”
He tugged me forward and we fell into step once more. “Very well. However, snow would be a proper kind of magic, this time of year. What’s-it-called: ‘Christmas Magic’?”
I rolled my eyes. “Christmas Magic isn’t actually magic – it’s -”
“It’s what?”
I sighed. “It’s make-believe. An idea important to the stories we tell at Christmastime.”
“The religious stories, or the other stories?”
“The other stories.”
Cody grunted, an annoyed edge to it that suggested he was still sore about the way I’d kicked him out of the house so I could watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in peace.
(“You can come back in when you decide to take this seriously!”)
(“Take what seriously?” he’d said, nearly choking on laughter. “What is going on in that -“)
(I’d slammed the door.)
“So, what’s it for?”
“What’s what for?”
“Your world’s idea – about magic at Christmastime.”
“You need to slur it more: Chrisssmas, not CHRISTmas. It sounds like you’re swearing.”
“Your cousins says it like -”
“Don’t listen to Lisa; she likes to pick fights.”
“Answer my question.”
I sighed again. “It’s difficult.”
“Ah. Does it come from ancient beliefs?”
“Not exactly. When people talk about ‘making’ or ‘believing’ in Christmas Magic, I don’t think they really believe in actual magic. They’re pretending to as a kind of game or exercise. It helps them remember a certain sense of wonder. Of joy. You know, the kinds of feelings that came easier during childhood. People don’t believe in magic, but they do believe in what this sort of magic represents – these wonder-filled moments that delight and sustain. I don’t know. This time of year, it’s tradition for everyone to try create those moments, for themselves, for others. To remember wonder, and joy, and comfort. To believe in good things done by good people in a peaceful world. I don’t know if I’m explaining it right.”
Cody grunted, a more thoughtful sound this time. “Christmas Magic is an ideal, then.”
“Yeah, kind of.”
“Huh.” He stopped, looking over the fake tree we’d come to. Alastir’s park along the bluff above Lake Michigan had been festooned for a couple weeks now, with Christmas lights and one enormous plastic green monstrosity that towered over the sidewalk. It looked a little strange during the day, but at night, under the dusting of snow, the decorations seemed festive to me.
“Why a pretend tree?” he said finally. “There are a lot of real trees along here.”
I shrugged. “It has to be an evergreen, but they don’t plant evergreens in the park- the needles kill the grass.”
“Can’t they cut one down and bring it over?”
“Too much work to maintain. The tree would turn brown and die.”
“Hmm.” Cody looked the tree up and down again. “Well, if it has to be pretend, we can do better than this.”
“Cody . . .” I said, putting my hands on my hips as he lifted his arms.
He winked at me. “Don’t be such a Grinch.”
The hair on the back of my neck shivered underneath my scarf as before my eyes, the tree began to change under the dark sky: circles of flat foliage bursting into prickly, dark green branches that rustled in the wind – the tip of the tree rising higher – a strong trunk rooting it all in snowy ground.
I blinked, and the plastic lightbulbs woven around the tree had vanished, replaced by hundreds of brightly colored shards – like a rainbow had shattered in the cold and fallen into the branches.
Another moment, and a brilliant point of white light came to rest at the very top of the tree – one more moment, and snow began to drift down onto the evergreen, swirling gently over the tree and only the tree.
Cody shoved his hands back into his pockets and raised an eyebrow at me. “That is all the decorating I’m going to do.”
I folded my arms and tried to send him a disapproving glare, but the excited voices of some people down the sidewalk, who had apparently noticed the changes, made me cover a helpless giggle with one hand – the other grabbing Cody’s sleeve and dragging him away from his craftsmanship.
“That better go back to normal,” I hissed, glancing back at several happily pointing strollers.
“Of course it will – it’s only an illusion. And only for, well, Christmastime.” He looked at me, stern. “Magic isn’t real, Alicia.”
I shook my head, smiling in spite of myself. Wizards.
Rhymes with Crazy 