Confession...

October 29, 2008
By
Remember when you were small, and you were so excited about Christmas, you could not go to sleep. I have a confession… I am still that way! Like a child, it takes me a long, long time to go to sleep on Christmas Eve. As a matter-of-fact, I also wake up extremely early. One time I remember well was last Christmas.

Last year, I told my mom exactly what I wanted. I wanted a specific phone, but three weeks before Christmas, there was a recall on it. I wanted to cry! However, my mom had made a promise, and I intended to make her keep it. I finally picked another phone for her to get, but there was only one week left to Christmas. She said, “I will get the phone, but you probably won’t have it until after New Year’s if I order it online.” I wanted to cry!

Christmas Eve night came, and I could not sleep. I tossed and turned all night. Not only did the damp cold make me uncomfortable, but also my impatience. My anxiety brought on a sensation that can only be described as a strengthening of my senses. The thin crack of light from behind my door became a light from a lighthouse as my imagination came ashore. The cargo hold was filled with ideas about what was under the tree. As my imagination ran wild, my energy also increased. I finally gained enough tiredness to fall asleep. I thought I would sleep for days.

That was not so! Two and three-quarter hours later, my eyes were opened, and my energy restored. I ran to the living room and looked under the tree. I found all my gifts, and I put them together.

I ran to my brothers’ room and woke them up. The told me to go to sleep! They said, “We need to wait until Mama and Daddy wake up!” I went in my room and closed the door. I got on the computer until it was 4 A.M., and then I tried again. I redirected by previous route, and my first destination became my parents’ room. They stalked to the living room and called out to my brothers. They sauntered in while giving me evil eyes; I returned it with a grim. I sat on the floor by my heap of boxes. My mom took pictures as, simultaneously, voices caroled out, “That’s just what I wanted,” “Thank you,” and “I hope we have some AA batteries!” I came to my last present, and after taking off the top layer of wrapping paper, I found a Cracker Barrel wrapping paper. Knowing that they only sell decorations, I became depressed that my last present was, indeed, least. I pulled off the paper and I saw a phone box! My Christmas memory is the deafening scream that sprinted from my lungs like a stallion and jockey crossing the finish line in delight that their race is complete, and they are victorious!





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