On Christmas

On the light glow of the room.

On the fluorescent colors dancing on the walls, exciting the encompassing darkness.

On Babyface's christmas album playing from the stereo, the tune of "The Little Drummer Boy" colliding with our soft inhales and exhales.

On the open window looking out onto the moonlit sky.

On the eyes peering at the soaring planes, ascending into the cloudless heavens and indicating that the world still happens and moves.

On memories of what has been and what can never be again, of the past and those who have stood in this very room before this very tree. On empty stockings hanging ahead.

On snuggling deeper and deeper, on nestling your head.

On pillows, on blankets, on gazes obscured by the warmth of tears.

On wrapping paper decorating the floor.

On church ornaments, and Jesus, and the cross.

On the anticipation and longing and bliss that only a child can have. And then, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" comforts a vibrating heart.

On Christmas.

On my favorite day of the year.

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