White Christmas ( 612 words )
Christmas for most people is a snow-filled holiday full of love from family and friends alike. Being able to sit inside on a couch with a warm blanket while watching cheesy rom-coms with the family. It was like this every year. However, snow always seemed to be lacking, the weather always a bit too warm— the sun a bit too bright. The sun would melt away ant of the snow that remained on the ground from any pre-Christmas snow. As a child, a white Christmas *is* the perfect Christmas. The warmer climate where I lived just didn’t allow for white Christmas’s, typically leaving the holiday as dry as the grass outside our living room window.
Now, an adult in my own apartment, the magic has all but died down, the only decoration being a small dinky tree in the corner by the TV. Its short scraggly branches reached our around it and its long slender center reached up to the too to the short ceilings. Not even a star could fit on top. But it made due. The stress of adulthood made the magic from our childhood seem distant and untouchable. Even the night before Christmas just felt like any other night.
Getting off of work and crawling into my warm bed, my pets coming in and tucking themself into my body. It was a ritual, every night.
Waking up was… different. My eyes were replaced with ornaments my limbs with flocked Christmas tree branches decorated in handmade crafts and ornaments, special moments from throughout the lives of whoever owned the tree. It was cold and dark, blue light filtering in through a large window to my left. Unable to move I came to the realization that I was in fact a Christmas tree. Not just any tree, but the one from my childhood. As the sun started to rise, warm light filtered in over the mountains in the distant, the sky a vibrant orange and yellow. It was truly beautiful. The lawn sparkled, completely covered in white snow that stretched on for what felt like miles. It twinkled in the light, a cool mist rising off of it. A white Christmas. The strings of lights around me lit up brightly as a smile. At the same time small cheers of joys cane from the stairs as small children filed in, hopping excitedly and giggling around me, small hands clasped over heir mouths in pure joy.
“Santa came! Santa came!” They both exclaimed to each other in loud whispers, as if not to wake up sleeping presents. Their small hands clasped around presents, lightly shaking them and questing their contents, giggling all the while. I nearly teared up— if Christmas trees could even do that— it was such a pure sight. My heart healed.
Just as quickly, my own eyes opened, looking up at my apartment ceiling. There were light tears in my eyes, but I smiled and rubbed at my face as I sat up. Instantly my cat was greeting me, rubbing her head on my arms and jumping up to rub at my face. I kiss her small head ABD glacé out my window, looking over the towering skyscrapers of the city. The city slept as the sun began to rise, snow gently falling from the sky.
I gasp and gently nudge my cat in my lap, “look, snow!” I say in a soft baby voice I typically talk to my cats in. It had been years since it snowed on Christmas.
Heart full of joy, I pulled myself out of bed and began to head to the kitchen where I began to prepare breakfast for myself and my roommate.
