All I Want For Christmas Is You

I was seven years old. It was about four in the morning on Christmas Day. I tossed my blankets off of me, and went out of my room. I gently pranced past the Christmas tree in our living room. I lifted up some of the lowest green branches and saw no gifts under the tree. I then looked at the stove and saw the plate of homemade cookies mom and I made still sitting there, untouched. The window was near the tree and I gazed through it, rubbing the glass to clear the condensation. I saw that the moon wasn’t visible through the thick cloud cover, so it was pitch black. The snowflakes were highlighted against the dim yellow streetlight by the road. The dirt road was frosted over; all hints of civilization in the snow were gone until dawn arrived. Everything was silent. Even our obnoxious dog that always barked twenty-four-seven behind our house was at ease. Everything seemed to be placed in a hibernation mode, except for me.
I opened the door, being as gentle as I possibly could and closed it behind me, with the same force as I opened it with. I tiptoed out of my door with bare feet, and I cautiously sat on the edge of the cracked, concreted sidewalk. I tucked my pink satin nightgown under my thighs, and pulled my knees to my chest. I felt the ice, tingle and melt on my exposed toes. I pushed the ice off of my feet, and I sniffled a little before looking up at the sky. The snow began falling a little harder, but still made no sound when it hit the surface of our metal roof. A flake hit my nose and melted immediately from my heated flesh. I then glanced to my right and saw my dad’s old pickup truck, covered with a frozen white sheet. Next to his truck were his working boots that he had forgotten to bring back in. They were filled with the white snow to the brim, and I giggled at the thought of him putting his foot in a snow filled boot. My dad was my most favorite person in my life. I thought about him, and about how much fun we have together. A shiver suddenly ran through my body as a gentle winter breeze rushed past me, stirring my train of thought. I felt the tremble of my skin reacting to the cold since I had no jacket. But I had to stay outside because we didn’t have a chimney, and Santa came down chimneys. I asked my dad how I got gifts since Santa couldn’t come into our house, and dad said Santa comes through our front door, and that is why I was up… sitting in the cold… to see Santa.
I sat there for what felt like hours, and I felt ultra tired after sitting in the cold, so I trudged back inside, not happy because I didn’t see Santa, and went back to bed. And when I woke up that same day there were presents under the tree.
Of course.

And that was my only Christmas memory.

It doesn’t sound like it should be the only Christmas memory I remember, it’s not… its just the one that sticks out to me the most. Christmas time is just another holiday to me. It kind of gets old after the five months you celebrate it. I’ve never really liked it anyway. It’s not a big deal. Besides, the only people I celebrate with are my mom and my little sister, Valerie. If you are wondering why I didn’t mention my dad… Well… he died on Christmas Day… When I was seven…. The same Christmas I remember more than the others. It wasn’t because he was sick, or ill… he was just trying to make my Christmas memorable in a good way. He was going to get some ingredients for my mom’s famous Christmas pie, and while he was stopped at the light at the square, an idiot ran the light and slammed into my dad’s side door, killing him on impact.

Maybe that’s why I don’t like Christmas.

Yep … that’s why.

Notes