This One Chance to Live

I LOVE TO get Christmas cards, and so I was happy as a ten-year-old to find a great stack of them waiting for me one night when I got home from work. I grabbed them up at once, not even waiting to get my coat off, and eagerly shuffled through the sealed envelopes, trying to guess who had sent each one and hoping that some, at least, would keep their mystery until I ripped them open. It's a juvenile game, I know, but I enjoy it.