The frase that titles this post was the one that i wrote in my Facebook account an hour ago, and I did it with the whole conviction of someone that believes that Bob though in me. Yes, it can sound crazy, to believe that Bob, yes, Bob Dylan saw me, met me, got into my deepest dreams and decided to give me the best gift.
But I feel strongly that it was so, and that the little box that I have in my hands and that contains Christmas in the Heart, in gold color and red letters, with two horses pulling the sleigh in the snow, the sexy Santa Claus-girl in the back cover, the red labeled CD and its exquisite carols that are playing now, the greeting cards to gift with their white envelopes, all this beautiful pack that contains Christmas, Christmas and Christmas was made for me.
Because, ever since I remember, I adored, idolized, dreamed with this celebration, persecuted it al along each month of the year between the pages of the books, my plays and the memories of each one of those Christmas eve that I lived, which was not provided of leafy decorated trees, lots of gifts wrapped in colored ribbons under their feet, or huge and golden turkeys on the table, surrounded by salads, plums, jams and cakes.
My Christmas were the most simple but the most beautiful for me because what has been called for generations the Christmas spirit, the true feeling of harmony, peace and solidarity with the neighbor was there in the middle, outside and around my table, with its discreet baked chicken, a cup of chocolate and Christmas cake.
Today this overwhelming feeling has subsided thanks to the turbed magic of the adulthood, everything returns to my memory as a rough trip, while Bob's Christmas runs all along the carols sung, with his voice rough and hard as the sandpaper through the angelic voices of the choristers, respecting the original pattern of the compositions and, at the same time, puting their old and incomparable mark.
Thanks Bob for this gift that combines the two things I love most in this world, your music and Christmas.