Last year, my friend gave me one of the best gifts I could have possibly have asked for.
The gift was a box that had a stage, lights, and a curtain. On the stage were two people, Christine and the Phantom of the opera. The box had a button on the back where you could press it, and the main theme from the musical would play.
I immediately loved it. I had loved the musical for so long and all of my friends knew about this obsession of mine. My sister has long made fun of me by changing the words to the main theme.
So when my friend told me that her little brother had gotten a hold of it and accidentally poured water on it, I thought that it would be fine.
But as I pressed the button to play the boxes music, the room filled with a scratchy, horror sounding song that sounded like my favorite musical had suddenly turned dark and was no longer about a lonely genius, but instead a stalker ready to take another victim under his wing.
The funny thing is that after I heard this new song I didn’t throw it away or strain myself through a thank you, I still loved it no matter what the song sounded like. I still have that box up on my shelf and I will happily tell the story and play the song to anyone around me.
That feeling of love for my friend and her gift is something that I will treasure for the rest of my life and it won’t end there.
Christmas for the past couple of years has just felt like another day, it doesn’t mean the same as it once did.
When I was little I loved spending time with my family, making gifts for neighbors and friends. I would spend as much time as I could staying up late, waiting for Santa to come and give me something that I would absolutely love.
I would wake up the next morning and if I couldn’t wait, I would ask my mom if I could retrieve the plate that Santa’s cookies went on so I could take a peek at the presents under the tree that had somehow gotten bigger overnight.
I would happily greet family as they came through the door and give them the biggest hugs I could give.
I would wiggle until it was my turn to open another present. I would wait for Christmas dinner with a smile on my face. I loved the desserts that my mom, dad, and aunt would make. All of this is the Christmas of my childhood.
Recently, I just wait until my finals are over, go home, and wait until I could go back to school. It just seemed like all I looked forward to was going back to a schedule and going back to a lonely apartment.
Thinking about what Christmas means to me now, I can’t believe that I don’t feel like it is anything but another day. Even if I want to feel that Christmas spirit that I did before, that’s not what it is now.
Now, my Christmases are like that music box. It will always seem great and amazing but when I press that button and find that the music isn’t all it seems, I will still enjoy it. No matter if it’s not the same as when I was a kid.
Christmases as an adult is more about the love you feel for the people around you and the hope that comes when you see others and the love that they freely give to people.
The hope that I have for Christmas shouldn’t be that of Christmas past, and it shouldn’t be for the Christmas yet to come when I have children, but that of Christmas present. When I am with my family and I can give to others with love and a thankful heart.
I hope that all of you feel that love this season and are able to love others just as much.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
