It’s Christmas Eve and after a bottle and a half, I’m resisting the strongest urge to call you
To reminisce
For the last 6 years, Christmas has been our thing
But I know you’re proud, stoic and probably have vowed not to text me and are really good at sticking to that
Well, I’m ******* at it
I want to talk to you
I want to hear about how your mum’s terrible tinsel decor has annoyed your dad
How you’ve already run out of Advocaat for Snowballs
How you’re tipsy and maybe in that moment, you slur the truth down the phone
About how you also miss me in your house at Christmas
How you miss turning around to me hungover and being the first to wish me
How we eat cans of Pringles whilst your dad flexes his obscure knowledge Trivial Pursuit muscles
How your mum offers me champagne at 9am
How we text half way through the night to meet in the kitchen for a cheeky snog
How we sing our own version of Feliz Navidad
How you periodically check in to ask me if I’m okay and if I need anything

I need something

Christmas was our thing.
And I miss you