Christmas

Christmas


Oh, how the holidays eluded me. I know of them, but my experiences were dramatically different from normal. One such holiday was Christmas. Originally, I enjoyed the holiday. There were so many things going on during the season of winter. Many people’s houses were decorated with colorful lights of the green and red variety. Some blinking, some singing, and some even changing colors. The white snow covered the ground in a soft, yet cold, blanket of ice crystals. When the sun struck the ground, it made the snow sparkle like rare gems in a dark and dank cave before sunlight graced the forgotten tomb. People were always smiling and laughing. Smiling at friends and family. Laughing at the children playing in the snow and reminiscing on when they were young. Entire families were going on occasional outings to shopping malls and coming out with their hands filled with bags and the bags filled with boxes and in these boxes, were their gifts. It was such a wonderful time of the year. The season for giving and good cheer. It was such a shame that such an event only happened one a year.

All of these things I could recognize in a detached, “Through the Looking Glass”, sort of way. I would watch as the families would go shopping with each other. The children running through the store looking for what they wanted so they could go home and write their letters to “Santa”. Not knowing their parents were the ones who got them all their “special little presents”. I’d watch as the other children played in the snow having “snowball fights” against each other. Walking down the streets, I would occasionally glance through the windows of other families as my “Guardian” and I walked through the neighborhood. Inside, some children sat and watched TV, while their parents watched on with a content smile. Others reminded me of some of the old Christmas cards that I saw in the stores. Children sitting before their parents while the parents hold a book telling of the various tales that surround such a time of year.

I watched all of this with a sneer gracing my face. Why should they be able to have so much fun in the snow? My 10 year old mind couldn’t come up with a reason as to why the “powers that be” would allow such “things” to enjoy the cool, fluffy white stuff that covered the ground in a “pure” security blanket, while I stand and watch. Not being able to enjoy the “purity” of the white, because of my shocking birth. There was no birth defect that I know of, to afflict me during and or after birth. I’m not entirely sure if it was indeed after my birth, or if it was a year or two, but my earliest memory is of that color. That color was everywhere. On the ceiling, the walls, I could only guess as to the color of the floor and bed? Was it a bed? It was hard as I tried to turn before giving up, having found that I couldn’t move. Then there were people. Even the people were white! Their faces, clothes, hands...everything, white. ever since, I could never stand the sight of “pure” white for too long. So, why is it that I suffer for something while others are able to enjoy themselves? I could only come up with one reason as to why I suffer, and that is to suffer.

Looking our my window, I continued to glare at the children. They got to go shopping with their parents, while I had to stay home to do homework. They got to go outside while I had to sit inside and watch. They got to spend their Christmas morning with their family, while I awoke to an empty house. I “hissed” silently to myself. It wasn’t fair. What did I ever do to warrant such obvious malice from the “powers that be”? at some point in my life did I slight them in some way? Was it my thoughts? My thoughts about my “family”? was it the thoughts that have been occurring frequently about other people? Was it my wish? Could that have been it? Or, maybe, it was all of them? Maybe I shouldn’t think so much... But I can’t help my thoughts! They hound me as if I were a fox. They pester me as if I was a piece of lumber and them the termites. How was I to stop thinking? That was a stupid question. I know the answer to that question, but I didn’t wish to dwell on it.

Turning from the window, I stood up from my bed and began walking out into the hall. The floor boards creaked with every step that I took. The sound screeched and wailed in the empty hallway. Only a reminder of how empty my “home” was. Coming closer to the “light”, despite how cliché it sounds, I could only feel myself becoming increasingly lighter. Almost as if I was loosing form and becoming a ghost. If it was the first time that I have felt such a thing, then I would, without a doubt, feel fear for my “soul”. but, because it wasn’t , I could only describe it as a sort of “high”. Similar to what most would associate with drug of similar stimulant. Entering the living room, I turned to my left and spotted the Christmas tree. Or what I could see of it. For only the top was visible, being obscured for the most part by a “mountain” of gifts. Even the carpet was covered by boxes.

There was no need for wrapping paper. It would only create mess and clutter. There was no surprise for I knew who Santa really was and was aware of the pointless questions asked of me as a way to get what I wanted. Walking over towards the pile of toys, I looked at the closest one. It was a toy robot that was supposed to play with you when alone. That was something I’ve always been. The current situation only solidified the fact. Clenching my teeth and fists, I release a snort of disgust before kicking it to the side. It was like this every year. Every year, I would get a “mountain” of presents. A “mountain” that I have asked for. Any other child would be ecstatic, elated, and fanatical to receive such a vast assortment of gifts. But, I was not a “normal” child.

I asked for the many parcels that lie on the floor. I asked, only because it is what I thought was expected of me. After all, children are supposed to be impulsive and ask for things that most would consider radical or out of reach. I received them, because that is what my “Guardian” guessed I liked. But that is not what I wanted. And as my eyes looked towards the downed toy, I felt self-depreciating tears flow from my eyes of their own accord. I could do nothing to stop them as they reached down my cheeks to my jaw and settled there for only a minute before hitting the carpet. The main emotion I could feel at that moment was pity. Not for the toy, but for something else. At the time, I couldn’t recognize it for what it was, but now I can. I pitied myself. I pitied myself, because I wanted to go out and play with other children, but I had to stay indoor, like a “good boy”. I wanted to drink eggnog with my “Guardian” while she read me a story, but she had to work, leaving me with the “mountain” and “Good boy”.

That is what she expected of me, so I would do so. Walking over towards the downed toy, I picked it up and opened the box. He was somewhat heavy as I pulled him out, but I managed on my own. Knowing that he needed batteries, I trekked my way into the kitchen, where we kept the spare batteries in a drawer. Opening the wrong one by accident, I spotted “The Key”. “The Key” was a very special “Key”. It was the only way for me to see the “Giver of Life”. I always found the number on it weird though. 440? I had and still have no idea what the number means.

I was going to reach for it, but thought better of it. If “Guardian” came back while I was on my way to see the “Giver of Life”, then she will yell again. Didn’t want that. Closing the drawer, I opened the one next to it. Finding the “DD’s”, I walked back into the front room. Going back over towards the toy, I put the batteries in. It took me a few moments to locate the “on” button, but I eventually found it. Flipping the switch, I stepped back and awaited for the moment it would come on.

At first, it started as a low buzzing. Then, I heard the unique sound of gears shifting and moving plastic limbs. The toy was tall, coming to about low chest while standing and wearing shoes. It was a pasty white thing with a bright red nose and a few assorted lights. As its eyes locked onto mine, I could feel that feeling becoming worse.

“Hi! I’m Buddy! Want to play?” the toy asked in an immature and poor imitation of a child’s voice. I felt Goosebumps on my arms. I nodded my head with a sad smile as I felt a lone tear leave me. Gathering its “hand”, if it could indeed be called such a thing, we slowly walked to my room. I would join in its “Reindeer Games”. It was expected of me. I would play with my new “Friend” like a “good boy”.

As i left the “light” of Christmas, i could finally feel myself, once again, being constantly pressed into the “ground” beneath my feet. And as the “darkness” once again claimed me, i could feel the “ground” give way and embrace me once more as i slept with a small smile on my face and in the cold embrace of my friend.