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Twas a Christmas lost

It is over already. I don’t know what it was this year, but it seems like Christmas was here and gone faster than Haley’s Comet streaking across the night sky. I actually feel like I missed it and I have no one to blame but myself.

It is over already.

I don’t know what it was this year, but it seems like Christmas was here and gone faster than Haley’s Comet streaking across the night sky.

I actually feel like I missed it and I have no one to blame but myself.

Everyone talks about the long build up to Christmas and then whoosh its gone. However, this year there did not even seem to be the bombastic pre-game show.

It was a quiet Christmas Eve at our house as we awaited Santa to make his world tour. My youngest daughter and I sat at the kitchen table finally building our gingerbread house — one I had promised to make for days.

I was surprised when my daughter looked up with a bag of gum drops in her hand and commented, “Daddy, it did does feel like Christmas Eve.”

You know, she was right.

I sat back and thought about how fast December had gone past. It did not seem like I had an opportunity to savour the Christmas season. Despite our best efforts, and for whatever, reason I felt I had just let Christmas slip me by.

Seriously, we had Boney M Christmas on the CD player, cranberry ginger ale in our glasses and green icing all over our hands and yet it just did not feel like Christmas.

I had assumed things would change the following day. Once wrapping paper littered our floor, the smell of turkey filled the air and laughter filled my living room, surely Christmas spirit would envelope the Barlow home.

To be honest, it was a Norman Rockwell Christmas Day.

All of our children were home, they were healthy and happy. We enjoyed the morning together before everyone went to find their corner of solace to hibernate for a few hours before the rest of the family arrived.

After the rest of our small clan arrived and with the turkey safely in the oven, some gathered in the living room while the rest of us hunkered down in the kitchen for a round of games.

It could not have been more picturesque, but alas, it still did not feel like Christmas.

On Christmas Day, once the family had gone home, the rest of us curled up on the couch to watch one of our favourite holiday movies and I found myself not wanting to go to bed. I was exhausted, but I was determined to hang on to the final shreds of Christmas.

I could not pinpoint why we never managed to get a hold of this Christmas.

Not until I found some quiet time on Boxing Day to write this column.

It seemed it was the first time in weeks I was not on some kind of a deadline either at work or at home. I could just sit back, relax and savour some rare quiet time.

Then it occurred to me, it is not that Christmas passed me by. Christmas had all but slapped me in the face but I continually ignored it.

I was foolishly focused on tasks as opposed to simply embracing the spirit of the holidays — friends, family and home.

What was supposed to be a time to reflect on the important things in life and an opportunity to recharge oneself mentally has been lost in menial tasks and perceived obligations.

Do we really need to go to 25 Christmas parties? Do we really need to head to the mall one more time to get that stocking stuffer we forgot? Do we really need to work late on Christmas Eve just to get a head start on 2011?

In doing so, we miss out on the things memories are truly made of. We have simply let Christmas overwhelm us.

Do not get me wrong, the spirit of Christmas is certainly not lost — more than ever people are willing to help those in need through holiday hampers, secret Santas and filling the food bank.

No, the spirit of Christmas is alive and well, but we have become so engulfed on what needs to be done externally we have forgotten the importance of taking care internally. We have neglected ourselves — our needs.

My needs are time with friends and family, time at home in my pajamas with my only concern being if I should watch “A Christmas Story” in bed or on the couch.

It is a shame I let this happen — not just for myself, but it is clear my children also felt the ramifications of my misplaced priorities.

Please forgive me if I do not make it to your Christmas open house next year or attend yet another gift exchange because I will be somewhere more important — at home.

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