The calm before the storm, the quiet of dawn before the first attack, the wind whistling threw the wreaths, rain pouring down, snug in my cap, munching gingerbread men. Christmas is a celebration of childhood. Memories of past Christmases threaten to overwhelm my senses. My anticipation is not now for my gifts or my children’s gifts but my grandchildren’s. How that time has flown is totally beyond me. I don’t ache, puff on a pipe, wallow in ageism, in my own mind I am still cool, listen to “classic” rock and lift weights at least three times a week. How, impossibly how, can I have grandchildren? Nevertheless, I do, I dote and I am excited to watch their faces and behavior on these magical days.
There is no me in Christmas, there is only the gift of giving. The rush of pleasure when a gift scores. The astounding emotion when shouts of delight and glee accompany the opening of gifts. The fun of being there, with family can not be surpassed. The true gifts of Christmas are the feelings that you cherish for the rest of your life. May you have memories this holiday that you can cherish forever.
There is no me in Christmas, there is only the gift of giving. The rush of pleasure when a gift scores. The astounding emotion when shouts of delight and glee accompany the opening of gifts. The fun of being there, with family can not be surpassed. The true gifts of Christmas are the feelings that you cherish for the rest of your life. May you have memories this holiday that you can cherish forever.
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