It was a typical Christmas Eve. I was with my family. When I say I, I am 10 years old and celebrating my first Christmas with my new family. My mom (recently married) and new dad and brother little Timmy. Let me start this by saying it wasn't a bad winter but a cold winter. Snow was minimal but the freezing wind made it feel like the North Pole. We had just finished the last Christmas shopping and were returning home in the snow. As soon as we got home dad started the fireplace and me and Timmy fetched the fresh wood. Mom started cooking her pumpkin pies and fresh bread for the next day's feast. When mom said it was time to go to bed I think that was the first time I didn't complain, because we knew what tomorrow was. Timmy and me went to bed early that evening with fresh smell of bread throughout the house. I can still see his face lying in the bed next to me, the moonlight bringing out his smile. We laughed and we hoped of the things that would come. We knew tomorrow would bring. I layed they're feeling almost weightless. Dreaming of these things. Christmas was coming and happiness too. When I awoke the next morning, I ran to the tree. That is when I relized how bad dreams can be. I'd hoped and I prayed that Christmas would change today. But it didn't, nothing could change what I had lost on Christmas Day 3 years ago. My Family was again a no-show, had been since a drunk driver took the life of my mother, father and little Timmy three years ago. But next year I'll dream again.
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