Whenever I think about Christmas I find myself trying desperately, eyes crushed shut, while fighting to remember how it was when I was a child. The anticipation pushed me through snow and past slush. Expectation and hope for the one present I wanted Santa Claus to place beneath the tree propelled me. I try remembering the wonder of drifted snow awakened to after being cuddled downward into my blankets like a Snowshoe Rabbit. I try remembering my excitement as my feet hit the floor, working feverishly to gain traction as my sleeper encased feet slid on the bare hardwood floor leading to the magical Christmas tree.
