My Christmas

I had a Wonderful Christmas.

I saw all my family and caught up and made some memories. I may be 25, but I still believe in Santa Clause and me and my little niece – who is only about 13 months old – got all caught up in the blissfulness that Christmas brings.

Be a kid. Be joyful.

I got all I asked for and I’ve always gotten all a boy could ever want. My birthday wish, however, has still not come true. I do not anticipate that it will, but I wish for it still out of that purely optimistic part of my heart. One shouldn’t expect to get all one wants. But what’s the harm in wishing for something unrealistic every now and again?

Probably the best Christmas gift was not at all a surprise, but nothing could have prepared me for it. I brought back a painting from Paris this summer. When I was there the second time around, at the end of my journey before I was to fly out of Charles de Gaulle Airport, I started getting tremendously sentimental and I bought all kinds of souvenirs.

I bought my niece a pink stuffed Eiffel Tower. How could I resist?

So yea – I picked out a painting of the city during sunset. Looking out over the Seine, the Eiffel Tower prominently watching over its city, the sun casting this uniquely beautiful glow over the buildings. It’s a great scene and I’ve been dying to get it matted and framed.

I have other art projects from Europe that need framing, but they will have to wait.

So for now, I have this picture frozen in time. Anywhere I go, anywhere I move to, this thing will come with me and it will remind me of that unforgettable journey. I have so many things like that – things that take me back in an instant to a beautiful memory from my life.

I am a rich man, to be certain.

However, yesterday we encountered a road bump. My family’s cat, Oreo, had to be put to sleep. He was very old and had experienced no health problems until now. His bladder stopped working and when pressed, blood would come out of it.

I cried when my dad and I went to the vet to see Oreo one last time. I had no idea how much I’d grown to love him. My dad cried twice as hard as I did and I think I realized at that moment just how alike he and I are.

I wear my heart on my sleeve and I get that directly from him. We both can be emotional and we cherish some of the most simple things in life.

Some sons hate the idea of being like their dad. It’s a curse and if anyone ever says something about it, they fly off the handle.

For me, being like my dad would be a great compliment.

I had a Wonderful Christmas – I hope you did, too.