CHRISTMASES OF THE YOUTH.

The first Noel the angel did say was to certain poor shepherd in fields as they lay...

A Yuletide song plays in the air as lights, green, yellow, and red, appear and fade in the cold night. Amidst colorful gifts waiting to be opened on the strike of Twelve, a pine tree stands proud boasting the ribbins, lit candles, and little angels adorning its bushy trunk. In the seemingly dark December night, merriment and laughter echo through, spreading a feeling of warmth and love all around.

Despite of the darkness of this Christmas, happiness reigns. An aura of mystique envelopes and separates the night from the world, making it dreamy perfect for a child.

But children grow and lose their youth, and Christmas is never the same exhilirating experience again.

That happened to me.

Year after year, Christmastimes have come and left, yet that mystical feeling never visited again. But, I can visit the experience in my mind. When I shut my eyes and reminisce, faded scenes come into my mind of those Christmastimes so long ago. Misty as they are, I can still feel the pristine joy and excitement I felt as a child. It just feels like a myth or a dream, but what is good about is that it really happened.

Despite the yearning for Christmases such as those, I am still thankful that in Christmastimes long ago, I felt the aura of mystique and merriment that separated those nights from the world and it was damn perfect for me.