Oh, just talking about my little niece who likes to jump up on my lap and typpity-type on the keyboard. It's a mooshy thing, thinking about kids on Christmas. I wonder what I would be like if this was my own kid? Maybe she'll be noisy and screaming for attention or whatever, but all those won't go into my head. Why? Because she's my kid, my very special one.

Sometimes by looking at her clear, pure eyes, I could remember my own memories at her age (she's two by the way). If I could look on well enough and think, I might as well remember that "magic" we look for whenever Christmas arrives. Maybe it's the candies, or the gifts, or the socks that will suddenly have money in them the morning after (we put socks on Christmas trees then, lol) ... whatever a child could believe even if it is the most fantastic or impossible of ideas ... it is somehow that pure energy spent in believing is what makes up all of this "magic".

Eventually, I grew out of this Never Never Land of believing.

But when all is quiet, and the only sound left is the tap-tap of the keyboard, I send my mind off somewhere.

The place where I used to fly in the night sky ...