I wrote this back in 2010 and wanted to share it in memory of our son Nicholas who passed unexpectedly in July. Rare Gift is my Christmas Gift to everyone. I hope you enjoy. Starting in 2010 I have decided to cancel all future Christmas Celebrations. Trust me when I say, if this story doesn’t touch your heart then you truly don’t have one. I should start by painting a picturesque Canadian Christmas scene in your mind highlighted with freshly fallen snow sparkling from a crisp and clear starlit morning. Two exceptionally excited and gracious children began their day spying from a bedroom window across the way to their grandparent’s house anticipating the moment when the kitchen light would appear in the lightly frosted window. Be certain, in their eyes, this holds as much importance as the Star of Bethlehem lighting up the night sky over a lowly manager because at the very moment their grandfathers hand flips that switch, it signifies the day’s events were about to begin and they race to the phone and call Grammy and Grampy. You see, the phone call is an act designed to hasten the morning arrival and add urgency or should I say justification to the need for the two younger children as well as my wife and I to get from the warmth of our beds all the while reinforced with a barrage of urgings “Grammy and Grampy are on their way up the driveway!!! They are coming up the driveway!!!” Now understand, I was partaking in the Christmas Spirits the previous eve and my lack of sleep and years of previous celebrations has somewhat lessened that youthful exuberance the children were showing. Trust that I do take a great deal of joy watching the kids unravel the multitude of treasures delivered by a bleary eyed and financially strapped Santa but for the most part the whole affair has become a bit repetitive…until now. For on this Christmas, like Scrooge, I was genuinely and utterly humbled to say the least it was one of those rare occasions when tears flowed in pure joy. But I am jumping ahead....Upon the arrival of my guests, who I suspect will eventually read this tale, the feeding frenzy under a tree, my son and I had harvested the week prior, began. I observed from the far end of the love-seat my one year old little girl wading through the gloriously colored mayhem that quickly amassed on the floor as laboriously placed paper and ribbon was removed with all the fan fair such an event deserved. The two oldest passing presents and helping the younger two open theirs while parents and grandparents attempted to maintain a level of order. It was at the tale end of this when I took my leave, making my way outside and onto the back step. I stood there, breathing in the cool air and enjoying the quiet solitude for only a few moments when I turned to look through the window in the door. With tears streaming and clutching something tightly to her chest, the love of my life stood shaking. Shock and confusion flooded my body and in true male fashion I instantly searched my mind for what I could have done to cause her current state. I quickly opened the door stepped up to her asking, “What’s wrong?” It was at that moment when she presented to me a small book. “What’s that!” I breathed still thinking the worst. She looked up and replied, “It’s the story of my life.” You see, unbeknownst to Kristen, her mother, over the course of a year had taken her personal journals and hand wrote into a single volume the story of Kristen’s life. I stood dumbfounded as my mind began to fathom the depth of such an effort. I reached out to hold my wife close, with tears of joy running down our faces we stood together. Christmas truly took on a new meaning that morning and I want to thank Kristen’s mom for giving my beautiful wife the rarest of gifts. We lay together as Kristen reads aloud her memories and I treasure the privilege of reliving Kristen’s childhood through her mother’s words. So you see, please understand why all future Christmas celebrations are cancelled, there is nothing on earth that can equal a gift of true love.