PhotonWrangler
Flashaholic
One year I wound up at a drugstore on Christmas Eve, looking for replacement bulbs for the Christmas lights. When I walked into the store I saw a really sad sight; the shelves were picked bare and the shoppers were looking around for anything that they could give as a gift - any soap-on-a-rope, Old Spice or Mr. Microphone, anything at all, just so they wouldn't have to leave the store empty handed. At that moment I swore to myself that I would never get into that position of being so desperate to find a gift.
And like Chuck, I've come to realize that it's not about the stuff at all. For me, my favorite Christmas gifts are the memories I have of family gatherings and all of the fun we had there. Some of those family members are long gone now, which only makes me cherish the memories of them more each Christmas. I guess the beest gift would be the gift of time - if I could wind back the clock and be with those people just one more time.
In a way they're still there every Christmas - they're just on the other side of that time-space wall. I can feel their presence during quiet, reflective moments, sometimes when I gaze into the Christmas lights, sometimes when I retrace old steps from holidays past. I look for them every year, hoping to catch just one more glimpse. Usually I find them not at the mall, but somehow in the nighttime air, in the stars, in my heart.
And if they were here today, it wouldn't matter to me if they were among those at the drugstore at 11pm looking for some soap-on-a-rope; it would be more than enough of a gift just to have them here.
And like Chuck, I've come to realize that it's not about the stuff at all. For me, my favorite Christmas gifts are the memories I have of family gatherings and all of the fun we had there. Some of those family members are long gone now, which only makes me cherish the memories of them more each Christmas. I guess the beest gift would be the gift of time - if I could wind back the clock and be with those people just one more time.
In a way they're still there every Christmas - they're just on the other side of that time-space wall. I can feel their presence during quiet, reflective moments, sometimes when I gaze into the Christmas lights, sometimes when I retrace old steps from holidays past. I look for them every year, hoping to catch just one more glimpse. Usually I find them not at the mall, but somehow in the nighttime air, in the stars, in my heart.
And if they were here today, it wouldn't matter to me if they were among those at the drugstore at 11pm looking for some soap-on-a-rope; it would be more than enough of a gift just to have them here.