I have had quite a few good Christmases in my life, but one stands out.

My Christmas when I was nine years old ruled.

I had asked my parents for a drum set because I thought I had rhythm and could play ( I couldn't). We didn't have a lot of money back then, so it was probably not an easy request for my parents.

All through the month of December, I watched for those huge boxes to appear under the tree, and as each day passed, I felt a little less sure that I would get what I had asked for. Small gifts started appearing and then one day it happened. Slightly bigger ones appeared. And then on Christmas eve, there was this BIG box with my name on it.

Needless to say, I was not able to sleep that night and when I woke up on Christmas morning, I couldn't wait to tear those gifts open, especially that big one.

But being the youngest I had to wait my turn. I thought it rather odd that my parents had bought headphones for everyone else, but thinking back on it, that was an excellent idea.

Because when my turn came, and I opened that big box up, I knew what it was. A red floor bass drum with a red foot pedal. Subsequent boxes revealed the snare, two tom-toms, and two cymbals. My dream had come true. I had my drum set.

And as my father and I put it together I could see how happy giving that gift to me made him. Once we had it all together my father called all the family together, they put on their headphones and I played.

While my family has all passed away, this memory allows me once again to feel them with me, and enjoy that gift one more time.

Even if it did give me a headache.