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The Holiday Spirit

I wish I was an only child, sometimes. When my brother irritates me or I feel compelled to fill out the application for the third set of eyes for my parents. But, then again, who else would I have to get me through this mess? My mom? She isn’t always so great. But then again neither is my brother, but you know how that can be. My dad? Same as my mom. Who else could I turn to in times of distress?

The rain almost slithers down the passenger seat window of my dad’s car. It’s been a long day. There’s a snowstorm warning for my county tomorrow. It’s supposed to be almost six inches. Great. Just in time for the holidays. My family ‘s already stressed out enough, let alone this wicked storm creeping into our town.

My mom always gets stressed about Christmas. Just the shopping and the money. Sometimes I think she forgets about the second coming of Jesus and ignores the purpose of Christmas in the first place, just like a kindergartener thinks that Christmas is about what Santa supposedly puts under your Christmas tree on Christmas Eve. It’s disgusting.

But, then again, lots of people do that. I do that sometimes. I just always complain about what others are doing instead of myself. Story of my life.

As we pull into my driveway and my dad turns off the car I just sit there. Everyone evacuates like there’s a fire or something. There’s not. It’s the holiday’s, they have things to do.

I don’t.





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