On Christmas Eve - To Share With Those Who Have Gone Through The Same

There you are, another Christmas, which I no longer celebrate, not in any form.

I can still remember vividly how I was like all other silly little boys in the first flush of their youth longing for such festival occasions, where overtures could be made to the ones they fancy and where embarrassment could be disguised without too strenuous efforts if ever the overtures made were hardly reciprocated; how heart was hammering the rib-cage, pumping blood racing through in veins, and a pale pink colour crept onto cheeks when a card was ever sent in return; how much hard work was done in guessing who was the sender, fingers squeezing all around outside the envelope, holding it up against the light trying to see what was inside, before eventually gave up and decided that the only way to know was to open it; how eyes glistened running through between lines searching for words that carried subliminal messages.

How old exactly was I then? Fifteen? Eighteen? Can』t remember really.

Time flies, and it SO does. Time, too, changes everything. Since when I am no longer that silly little boy dreaming all his fanciful dreams? Behaviours are more discreet, thoughts deeper, eyes just as sparkling, yet, branches of desires trimmed.  

Maturity wormed it's way through with you hardly being aware all along of those growing pains, yet, you eventually see the efficacy when recklessness ebbed away, impatience faded, giving way to responsibility, sensitivity, and considerations. That shall be the beauty of life itself, the virtue of purgatory C the sweet after-taste of bitter experiences.

I no longer celebrate, either, Chinese New Year, not in the way when I was so young that I hardly knew anything other than playing fireworks, a feast on New Year』s Eve, collecting luck money from dad and mum.

Nevertheless, I am still reading <The Greatest Wizard In Oz>; still can』t resist the temptation of going back home, savouring the feelings of being the centre of attention C only that the luxury belongs more to my little niece.

Thank you London! I am no longer that silly little boy wet behind his ears. And thank you just as much for letting me know that I am still entitled to a childish heart after whatever hardship I have been through.