I hope your holidays were good. I hope your Christmas was happy, however you chose to celebrate it.

Social media have allowed a window into the celebration and lives of others. Some gather for breakfast Christmas morning; some dinner the evening before or night of Christmas; and some on Christmas Eve have family members sleep over in anticipation of the morning festivities.

Sometimes presents get opened on Christmas Eve; sometimes just one.

The objective is always the same: to bring together loved ones for the gaiety, and, so often, that’s exactly what happens.

Often people post pictures to memorialize and share those moments. Even if they don’t, they’ll just write a few lines noting what has been done.

And for each and every one, I was happy. I mean, no reason to begrudge anyone’s happiness.

Maybe the celebration has changed through the years, or maybe it was just me. I can’t remember the last time I saw a child out riding a new bike on Christmas day. Funny, because that’s the one thing I remember about my childhood Christmases.

Not just the times when I got a new bike, but just seeing other children out riding.

There would be a time that afternoon when close friends would go from house to house visiting and seeing what everyone else got.

Your parents didn’t let you use the phone because they were awaiting calls from family members in other states.

That was before call waiting; to be honest, even if call waiting existed, I know that there is no way my mother would think one of her siblings should wait while I spoke to one of my friends.

My mother-in-law fretted that at no point Christmas did she even see children stirring around the neighborhood. I assume because they now just call or text each other on their own cell phone.

Of course, I’m not a child anymore, and my mother is no longer around.

Now … well, a neighbor whom I had only waved to dropped some treats off at our house for our dogs; an unexpected act of kindness.

A friend had her beloved 14-year-old dog die on Christmas day; another had her uncle die. There isn’t any comparison, other than each was loved in his household.

My Christmas morning may never again have the spirit of wonderment, but may it always have the spirit of hope, love and charity. Ultimately, that’s what my mother really wanted me to have. I wish the same for you.

Jamie Ruff is a staff reporter for The Kenbridge-Victoria Dispatch. His email is jamie.ruff@kvd.com.