The party has ended. The last of the guests have left. The rest of the food has been collected and stored in the fridge, plenty to last us all week.
The boxes that our Christmas pajamas were just in have been torn into, leaving remnants of shredded paper across the floor. With full bellies, the family bids adieu until morning.
I tiptoe to my room, laptop pressed tightly against my body. I jump in bed, prop myself up with 4 pillows in an old iron twin I've been sleeping in since I was 5.
The house is quiet.
...
My bedroom lights are off, but the glow of my Christmas tree helps me see. From my bedroom window, I can see houses across the neighborhood lake, still lit up like they're pleading, "Santa Stop Here!"
I am thinking of all the kids who can't sleep tonight because they're impatiently waiting for the man in the big, red suit.
And I'm thinking of the kids in Newtown that, before 9 days ago, would also be in their warm beds, hiding under the sheets and frozen in their tracks because they could've sworn they heard a noise coming from the fireplace.
The house is quiet.
...
I'm not tired.
Maybe it's still the kid in me, anticipating the arrival of Santa Claus. Maybe it's that i've had too much caffeine from all of the Coke I drank tonight. Or maybe, just maybe, it's that I can't stop thinking about how it's the last Christmas where I will sleep under my parents roof before I get married.
You're right, it's not that big of a deal. This will always remain my house, and I'm welcome here whenever I want. I can stay here next Christmas Eve if I wanted. I can still open my annual Christmas pajamas and expect the knock of a little sister at my bedroom door the next morning, waking me up earlier than planned because she can't wait to open gifts.
But it's not the same thing.
And that makes it bittersweet.
So, I thought I'd let you know that tonight I'm lying my head down, reminiscing on past Christmases and memories made as a kid - 22 pairs of pajamas, dozens of cookies made for Santa, hundreds of wrapped presents, thousands of butterflies in my stomach, and the constant celebration of 1 savior that was created for us so that we can have eternal life.
I hope you and yours are having a blessed Christmas. Below are a few pictures of my dad's family coming over to our home for Christmas Eve!
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| Every Christmas, we sing Happy Birthday to Jesus! |
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| The fiancé loved my new pajamas |
