I imagine a perfect Christmas waking up to the sunshine on your heavy eyelids.
I imagine a perfect Christmas racing to the tree, slipping and sliding in your warm fuzzy slippers, to see how many bundles surrounded the tree.
I imagine a perfect Christmas, a Christmas unlike mine.

Now, I’m not saying I had a terrible Christmas, but it was untraditional to say the least.

As a child, I felt so special.
I had one of those blessings from an event the exact opposite of that.
I had two Christmases, one with my mother and one with my father.
Christmas Eve was always my mother’s and Christmas Day was always my father’s.
When I was little, my mom would tell me that she called Santa every year to tell him to come to my grandmas house, where we did presents, a night early.
Imagine, as a child, thinking that you were so incredibly special that THE Santa Clause, came to your house an ENTIRE night early.
I actually felt like the queen.
My mother and I had Christmas on Christmas Eve at night, and let me tell you, seeing the presents under the tree and have to wait TWELVE HOURS to open them, that was a child’s hell.
Then when I awoke in the morning, I had to get up and leave to go to my father’s.
My father got every Christmas, which I never thought was fair, but what do kids know?
Right?

So yes I had two Christmases
So yes I got ‘more’ presents,
But now as I grow up
I miss the perfect Christmas
I imagine this perfect Christmas.
A Normal Christmas.