What I really want, from all of my loved ones, is:
I want you to raid my refrigerator.
I want you to keep coming around; at least message me, preferably with photos, when you can’t visit or meet me.
I want you to ask me questions; ask my opinion; ask my advice.
I want you to tell me your problems and your thoughts about them. I want you to bounce your ideas about how to handle them off me.
And I want you to tell me your wins in life. Share the things you’ve learned with me. And tell me what you would like me to learn from what you’ve learned.
Tell me about, and ask me about, your health, your attitude, your thoughts.
Talk with me about your love, or your lack of it, and your kids and/or your plans for them.
Talk with me about your friends and your work and your acquaintances, good or bad. How are your friendships and your work and your hobbies going for you?
Talk with me about your views and opinions on the state of mankind and our world; and about your pets and your home and your car and your things, both frustrating and favorite.
And tell me your dreams.
What I want for Christmas is for you to continue to share your life with me. Visit with me. Laugh with me—or laugh at me. Your laughter is my favorite music.
My favorite works, my favorite investments, were the things I did to improve your life. They were good works, good investments; you look good. I’m proud of you. Now help me enjoy those investments by enjoying them with me—and by sharing yours, that you pay forward, with me.
I want to watch you make your investments to improve the lives of your loved ones, too. I want to see and feel your happiness about their happiness.
That’s what I want for Christmas.
I want you, and yours, to raid my refrigerator.
