I remember everything about that day. The tree, the presents, the love. As long as I live I'll never forget it. Why would I want to? After all, it was our last Christmas together.

My story begins after a long night of hoping and wishing. A long night of listening for sleigh bells and the sound of reindeer on our rooftop. A night usually known as Christmas Eve, on the morning of a day usually known as Christmas Day.

I sat up, blinking sleep from my eyes. I slid out of bed, pushing aside the covers. As I padded across the carpeted floor I couldn't shake the feeling I was forgetting something. Something important. I thought for a minute. Then my head cleared. It was CHRISTMAS!

I tore down the hallway to my little brothers room. Pushing past the half closed door, I ran to his bed.

"Mikey, Mikey, Wake up, Christmas, COME ON," I whispered loudly, shaking him.

He opened his eyes and stared at me for a minute. Then he realized what was going on. Jumping out of bed he threw himself into my arms. I laughed and kissed his messy hair. I pushed the hard,  black button on his clock. The screen turned on and displayed the time, 7:25.

Five more minutes and we could wake up our parents. Each second was an eternity. We brainstormed what Santa might have brought us. Finally, the 7:29 clicked to 7:30. Michael jumped up and down squeaking with excitement. I picked him up, laughing.

I carried him to our parent's bedroom. It was dark, the only light came from the alarm system keypad on the wall. Inside the room it was warm, a little muggy even. I gestured for him to stay outside the door. Tiptoeing inside their bedroom, I stifled a laugh.

Leaning slowly around the corner, I reached out till I could feel the volume buttons of their clock radio. I turned the knob until it was at 75%. Yes, that is louder than you think it is. Slowly I felt around until I felt the radio button. I motioned for Michael to run back to his bedroom.

I quickly pressed the button and raced out of the room. Now we just had to wait. I sat next to Michael on his bed. His tiny arms were wrapped around me, and his head was buried in my shoulder. He was small for a nine year old, and skinny too. I pulled him onto my lap, and he gave me a kiss.

After what seemed like forever, my parents appeared at the door. We ran to them, all of us laughing. The happiness was unfathomable. Michael and I jumped up and down begging for them to hurry up and get dressed, grab the camera, and brush their teeth.

They finished after what seemed like a million years. Holding up the camera they counted down, 1, 2, 3. We did what we had done every year since Michael was two.

"Christmas!" We screamed at the top of our lungs. Every video from the time were two and four began that way. Seven years of our love, shouted in one word. His voice still sounded the same. In a flash we were all down stairs laughing and shouting. The Christmas tree sparkled with fake beads of dew, colored lights, and shiny metal snowflakes. Even brighter was the homemade ornaments from Kindergarten days long past. Paper chains, felt snowmen, pipe cleaner candy canes.  The tree was alive with memories.

Below the tree was 20 or so presents wrapped in red and green, complete with cards and ribbons and bows. Those were the presents from family members. Hung on the mantle piece were two red stockings, stuffed with candy, fruit, matchbox cars, playing cards, and goldfish crackers. Below each stocking was 7 or 8 presents. These were from Santa. As always, the camera caught our shocked and joyful faces.

In seconds we were upon our stockings, dumping them out and sorting fruits, nuts, and candy into three different bowls. We examined the cards and played with the cars before putting them in their proper places. Then we excitedly searched through the piles of presents. The trash bin began to overflow with wrapping paper. Life was perfect that morning.

After a quick breakfast and more than one sugar sprinkled cookie, we sat down on the couch. We snuggled together. Today was a day of toys and goodies. Of Christmas specials and family. Hours later as afternoon deepened into evening, we played one final ornament game. One of us would think of an ornament on the tree, the others getting 20 questions to guess it. We sang around the Christmas tree one last time, and read the final Christmas bedtime story.

Before going to bed, we cropped together all today's Christmas videos. Another year's successful Christmas compilation. Now we had eight. We watched the videos from all the years before, smiling at our toddler giggles and adorable reactions. As always, the nostalgia made us all cry.

We gave our last hugs and kisses and prayers of the night. We went to bed with joy in our hearts and love in our souls. Tomorrow there would be cleaning up to do, and decorations to take down. The exhaustion of the day finally set in and we all fell asleep in minutes. Not one of us cared what the future might hold that night. Peace on Earth! Right?

That Christmas was nearly three years ago, before the shadow of divorce came and never  left. Though we still have Christmas, at two houses even, we no longer have Christmas together. I can't help wonder how we got here, from all of that love, to all of this empty. We never made another Christmas video. But even after all these years, watching the videos still makes me cry. Not because we are separate, or because of nostalgia, or because I miss those years. No, its because one part of me wonders, if maybe, just maybe, we can one day have Christmas together again.