The ghost of Christmas past.

Christmas, a holiday that has become a capitalistic dream. A day celebrated with over spending, over indulgence, and over expectation. Alas this morning there was no screaming children jumping on my bed with the excitement of Santa dropping of the bounty of their last 6 weeks of good behavior. No for I live in a purgatory stuck between a household of young adult children, and being a grandparent. I awoke much later than my peers 10 years younger, laying in bed wondering if I should go talk to my dog. No screaming children attacking my valuable sleep after staying awake all night building a damned toy that seems to be lacking item 4a from the master parts list.

Today I don't sit in my easy chair lamenting the overtime I will have to work to pay for 3 hours of tearing, ripping, and shredding. I don't get to see the smiles of young children as they strain to decide which new toy to play with. Its quiet this morning, in fact I was able to go to the grocery store, and buy a bottle of wine, and cinnamon rolls, no-one the wiser of my absence.  You see my time has passed, those moments wasted on concern for house payments, a job, and the credit card debt I had just produced. My magical moment is now a memory. Gone is the feeling of horror of the money spent, I seemed to survive that with no recollection of it what so ever.  In fact I don't have a clue how much I spent on gifts for those lovely children.

Replaced our dolls, trucks, and obnoxious screaming stuffed animals that fly, with sensible gifts that

can be used in adult life,books, boots, sweaters, and socks. You can't help but wonder if the smile is happiness, or sarcasm. But of course I am armed with the knowledge that while my time is past, I do get to keep those joyous memories of two small children attacking my slumber and screaming that jolly old St Nick, had indeed come to visit. Gone are the faded memories that seemed so important at the time, replaced with only the ghosts of Christmas past. If only someone had told me to forget any concern I might have had, and focus more deeply on what Christmas was giving me. The feeling of my small children wrapped in new pajamas, the taste of cookies I forced down before passing out Christmas eve and the look of happiness in my wife's eyes knowing her children would spend another Christmas believing in magic.

I am now convinced without a doubt, that its moments like this that contribute to spoiled Grandchildren. Have a Merry Christmas, and take a mental picture of what this day offers. Someday it will be valuable beyond words.