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The ghosts of Christmas Past and Present want a word with me ...

December 25, 2001 ~ 7:26 a.m.

Here it is, early morning, Christmas day, and the wife asked me an hour ago, "Can we open presents now?" Isn't that just adorable? She's still a kid at heart. I told her, "not yet, I have business on the computer to take care of." Uh-oh. It would appear that, somewhere along the line, I became an adult.

The hours between 6 and 8 a.m. Christmas day used to be torture. I would be desperate to park my young rear on the floor in front of the Christmas tree and delve into my gifts. Instead, I would have to wait while my folks woke up, cradling their coffee, and telling us, "No breakfast, no presents!"

Now I'm content to wait. I take care of e-mails, eat some breakfast, fix some tea and watch the sun peak over the horizon. An adult temperament instruct you to savor the little moments. Meanwhile, my dear wife, five years my elder, is bouncing off the walls with anticipation. I'm typing this while listening to her whine "Pressies, I want pressies!" Just kidding, she ain't that bad. But close enough.

("I love you, dear" I mutter as I see a large candy-cane about to crash and splinter over my head.)

Perhaps there's something about me that is desperate to pretend that Christmas is just a normal day, that business can carry on as usual. This is just a day off from work.

Naughty dragon of the night! I can hear you all now. I see the expressions of disbelief washing across your faces. Christmas, just another day?

The thing is, Christmas would always start off like gangbusters: cheery Christmas music on the stereo, a crackling fire in the fireplace, a well-lit tree, about a million gifts to sift through, and peace and harmony all around.

A few hours later, all the fun and festivities would suddenly go on hiatus. By noon, I would find myself parked in front of the TV, watching movies that, on any other day, I'd have been totally oblivious to. Almost drugged from boredom, I would head downstairs to pick at Christmas dinner, responding in a very noncommittal way to my relatives in response to their queries about how I was and what I was up to, and was I being a good boy? Then, while all the women present in the household would wash the dishes and put everything back in its place, my dad would retire to the TV room to watch the NBA Christmas Day game, while I'd listen to Grandma wax lyrical about the Christmas days of yore, while barely restraining the urge to poke my sister.

It's no wonder I actually looked forward to school the next day.

All that having been said, I wouldn't trade those Christmas days with my family for anything. I was just a bored-stiff kid who didn't really appreciate the meaning of Christmas. But here and today�3,000 miles from where I grew up and with only my wife for company�I know what Christmas means. It is the one day you actually get to put your busy life on hold and take stock of all that you have to be grateful for. It is the one day you give as well as receive, and feel pretty darn good about it as well. You realize that not one moment of the day should go to waste. On this day, you celebrate life. Christ came into the world on this day, and in a sense, so do we all.

On this Christmas morning, it is not about the rush to open presents. That can wait.

Rather, today is the day I put my constant complaining on the shelf and take a good look at the bigger picture. It is as if I'm being paid a visit by the ghosts of Christmas Past and Present. Apparently, Ebenezer Scrooge has nothing on me.

But I'm glad to be alive. I am blessed.

I am savoring the moment.

And so should you all, my friends.

Merry Christmas!

� M.E.M.

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Copyright � 2001-2007 by M.E. Manning. All material is written by me, unless explicitly stated otherwise by use of footnotes or bylines. Do not copy or redistribute without my permission.

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