Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Let the scent of orange and clove drift through your memories of Christmases past.
Keep your eyes closed. Inhale deeper. Warm butter, a hint of cinnamon. Perhaps a dash of ginger gives way to the scent of mustard, croissants and sausage.
Old Christmas tunes fill the air. Cheerful music about St Stephen, dragons and lambs all together on the most Holy Night. And in the distance the sound of children laughing in the snow, the sharp sting of snowflakes falling into young eyes searching the sky for their source.
The crinkle of wrapping paper, hastily torn and tossed aside. The clunk of heavy boxes, the whirr of robots and shouts of joy.
Then quiet as the baby lies beneath the tree, one tiny hand reaching towards the nearest twinkling light.
Peace on Earth. Goodwill toward man.
And love for all.