Ah, Christmas.

It has changed so much for me from when I was a kid. I think of Christmas and immediately get very vivid images.

Carroling with my church and standing in the cold. I remember our candle light services and the blind lady named Carol who sang "O, Holy Night". The years I would do midnight service at Greenwood Church as lector and having to sign up for it as soon as the next years' calendar went up in January. Visiting Santa and having a picture taken at Anne & Hope until age 10. I remember family gatherings at my cousin Kenny's and all those who were always there but aren't any more. Singing at senior citizens' homes with my high school choir. Turning on the lights around the house for my mother every night. How I hated to wrap presents because they never came out right. Buying presents for my Aunt and Uncle's dog, Dukie. The year I wrapped my self as a present for a girlfriend in high school and her parents actually let me lie under the tree. I proposed to both of my wives at Christmas. The look on my Auntie Alma's face when I announced the 2nd wife and I were getting married a little earlier than planned because of our son being on the way. My first Christmas with a family of my own. Each year since with my son and the anticipation of watching him open presents.

There are bad Christmas memories also. The year I answered the call a few days after Christmas that my Grandpa Cobb had died. The year my mother and I fought about having a Christmas tree after my father died. My first Christmas apart from my sons and the ugly scene with my ex and her family over presents one other year.

I guess I should be happy the good memories outnumber the bad.

One of my most lasting memories is how my father would wake me after "Santa had arrived". I would go to bed and a few hours later the man in red would come and I'd be woken up to see what he had left. I guess this was done because of my father's schedule at the police department. My parents' bedroom was right over mine, so my father would either stomp on the floor or hit it with a broom handle loudly to wake me. He'd yell out to me, "Jack, did you hear that?! I think it sounded like something on the roof! Better check and see, it might have been Santa's reindeer up there!" Sure enough, there were packages everywhere proving he had come and gone and I had just missed seeing him. It didn't dawn on me until years later that there was a whole other floor and ceiling between my bedroom and the roof, but it always worked like a charm.

When I became a dad I started a little tradition of my own which lasted for a while through the divorce. At my house Santa needed a little change from all the milk and cookie he had at all the other houses. When Santa came to the Eaton house there was pizza and root beer waiting for him!

This year has been great. The "young lady" was overwhelmed with my gift of a spa visit. Johnny loved what he got. I have also hit a milestone of sorts with him as well. Usually I would get his latest school photo as a Christmas present. I understood the situation given that my ex certainly wouldn't want to have to go out buying a gift for me and he is still young. He finally got me something else. And very thoughtful, too. A new shirt to wear. e had very quietly asked, a few weeks ago, what size I was wearing now. I never gave it another thought; just his keeping up with my weight loss. Then to open the gift that he had actually put some thought to was even more wonderful than the gift itself.

He and I have the whole week together. I am looking forward to every moment. Except, of course, when he goes back.