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Karith
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Posted on Mon, Dec 05, 2011 10:51

Ever so carefully, quietly she moves down the steps until she almost reaches the bottom. She sits in her pajamas and peers over the banister at the room below. The fire has died to an orange glow and its' light passes softly, flickering across the wooden floor. She can see the angels a top the hearth, coated softly in white clouds mother had placed there the night before. The tree with its' twinkling lights, the red bows on the wall, the stockings daddy had hung, all were waiting. A pop from the fire, a noise outside, the excitement beating in her chest. But she sat still and listened to the moment. The moment felt like forever to such a little girl, but it was filled with such hope and promise, that it increased her thrill. She wrapped her arms around her legs, leaning her chin to her knees, and then looked at the gifts she was giving, poking out from under the tree. A feeling in her heart grew as she thought of her family, and she knew in that moment what Christmas was meant to be. I was 9 years old when this happened to me.


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