The 25th of December

As a child, Christmas felt like a dream. 
It felt like such a day couldn’t exist,
like we would wake up to December 26th, 
and go on with our lives like normal. 

Christmas felt like not being able to sleep, 
like thinking, If I stay awake long enough, 
I’ll hear Santa. I’ll see him!
and then being pulled into slumber grudgingly. 

It felt like waking up at five in the morning, 
waiting for my older brother to wake up, 
playing my tiny pink DS in my other brother’s room
while counting down the minutes. 

Christmas was bursting into my parent’s room, 
jumping on their bed, 
yelling and asking if we could go see the tree, 
but really, we just wanted presents. 

Rushing out to the living room, 
goggling at the heap of gifts,
my siblings and I pounce upon them
like hyenas upon their prey. 

Christmas was a day of wonder, 
of snow white magic, family gatherings,
the smell of hot chocolate, 
and the feeling of home.