This One Doesn't Have A Title Yet Either.**

Christmas time is the same, and different for everyone. Every family has their own traditions of celebration. My family gets together in the late evening of Christmas Eve. We all arrive at our parents hours after the sun has called it a day. For so many years this has been our way of celebration. It had never felt any different until last Christmas.
On Christmas Eve I woke up knowing exactly what lay ahead of me, but not knowing how it would affect me. I usually wake up on Christmas Eve at my parents house, hearing the hustle and bustle of preparation. This time I did not. I awoke at my new home, alone in the quietness of the solitariness. When I looked out of the window from the ocean of blankets and pillows upon my bead, it looked like a summer day to be spent at the beach. I went on about my normal daily activities and chores, but in the back of my mind I missed seeing my mom frantically running around to check off the next thing on her list. Eventually it was time to get ready to go spend time with my family.
My first trial was getting all of the presents to the car. I strongly believe that is why people buy gift cards these days. My second trial was getting all of them into my parents house. I had seen my brother and sister do this for years. I regretted at that moment, for always laughing at them. When I hurled the door open in pure desperation, my sister greeted me with a laugh, that I had always given her. I threw my packages on the nearest open spot on the floor. My mom light-heartedly giggled,
“Is that it?” My face must have been scarlet red, I looked up in my frustration,
“No! I have to go back out and get my shoe! I lost it in the driveway.”
“What? Your shoe?” I just looked at her and smiled, and stomped off to retrieve my lost shoe.
I was when I returned and opened the door for the second time, without any distractions that the heavenly aroma of Christmas dinner smacked me in the face. That was the smell I had missed all day. During dinner we shared jokes, stories, and laughs. We ate so much our bodies didn’t want to move. All the food was like an anchor restraining us in our place. Present time is always after dinner, so we soon after plates were cleared five little munchkins were running around asking,
“Can we open them yet? What about now!” This time has always been incredibly chaotic. I received my presents and set them aside until later. I watch my four nieces and two nephews rip the paper to shreds, and quickly snatch whatever was in front of them, while screaming simultaneously. I had taken in every second of it as a sponge soaks up water. My cheeks started to ache because of all the upside-down frowning. At last the madness came to an end and I found a moment to open my gifts. I opened a golden box, inside sat a black, velvet bag. It was the bracelet I had been wanting. I screamed and jumped just like the children had just done. My mom’s face was covered in a smile.
“There is snowflakes on the back because every snowflake is different and unique. And you are that special to me.” Tears welled up in my eyes but I stashed them back in their place,
“I love it! Thank you so much!” Words could not have described my happiness. Eventually all the excitement died down. The coffee perked filling the house with a robust fragrance, that married well with all the sweets filling the kitchen counter-tops. We ended the night listening to my brother tune Gage’s new guitar, while the girls put on a fashion show modeling their newest attire. When the night grew sleepy, and Santa was on his way, Ryan and I packed our things up and headed home. Heading home felt so weird, because I had felt like I was just there.
That night was the same as any other Christmas Eve with my family, and yet life changing. I realized that I have matured, or my nieces would say, I’ve grown way up. Not only am I living on my own, but I no longer take the simple things for granted. Many times we treat life as that little piece of hair that a gust of wind blows into our face. We are quick to just brush it away, to keep moving on. That Christmas was the first time I didn’t just brush it away, but had taken the time to take a revitalizing breath of the wind.