Christmas Morning

Jean DArque
2 min read
Christmas Morning
It’s. So. Beautiful....
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I am so excited for tomorrow, I can hardly stand it. It feels like the Christmas, when I woke up way before my parents, and in the still dark house, crept to the edge of the stairs. Peering through the banister rails, I could see the red chile lights blinking on the Christmas tree, illuminating the presents, on-again off-again. In the midst of the regular presents was a giant, sleek, soft, fuzzy, life-sized (to a four year old) stuffed UNICORN! I hadn’t seen anything so beautiful in all four years. It promised to change the way I imagined things. But there was no way to tell if it was for me or my kid sister. I wanted it so badly, I could already feel its furry mane as I rode (scooted) it across the kitchen floor. It trumped all the other presents under the tree, all the presents in my room already, and most of the presents I could think of. It just had to be mine, but what if I didn’t get it?! As I waited, the minutes clicking by, for my parents to wake up, opening the flood-gates of Christmas morning present opening, I decided, I felt it. The unicorn was mine. The universe couldn’t have it any other way. There was no other outcome. I suddenly knew I would get the unicorn. Now all I had to do was wait, with held breath and clenched fists, for Christmas morning.
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