Remember Me?

8. Natale

I feel like every year you Christmas comes around, you feel a little bit more sad. The idea that your growing into adulthood, and leaving the magic of childhood behind. I didn't have a magical childhood, but something about Christmas made me hold an extra bit of hope.

That extra bit of hope was useless though. We didn't have a tree, but the local church did. I would sit under the tree and gaze at its beauty, remembering that tree I never got to see. A tree in a church was magical. Imagine me up to the age of 8 praying, the only time I would ever go to church just to see that tree.

My prayers never got answered though, and the tree stopped calling out to me to visit.

I guess I just grew up, and realised there was no such thing as magic.

But I'm not with Mom. I'm here, and it is Xavier who reminds me so nice and early. 

'Wake up little sis! It's Christmas' I hear him singing in my year whilst thumping me with the pillow. 

'I'm up, I'm up' I mumble while pulling the covers back over my head. It's too damn early. 

I suddenly find myself being lifted into the air and when I peak my head out of the blanket, I see Xavier carrying me downstairs.

'Are we allowed to be down here?' I mumble while pressing my face into his shirt. He still smells like bed and comfort. Perhaps I can trick myself into pretending that I'm still in bed. 

'Of course we are, Christmas is centered around the youngest in the families so this is basically for us' he laughs while bumping me down on every step 'Especially as you've just returned home, the boys were stressing about this.'

I didn't think much about my brother's reactions about my first Christmas back home. It's a bit strange realizing my last Christmas here was when I was five, I can't really remember the other Christmases. I was too young. I remember the excitement though, waiting for Santa. When I turned six and was living in the council estate, I waited the whole night to see Santa but he never came. Mom was too off her face with drugs to make dinner let alone give us presents, and that was the moment I decided Santa isn't real . 

Once downstairs, I throw myself from his grip and run to the stockings. After 10 years of living with la mamma, I am surprised to see that they are actually full.

'Woah Xav!' I whisper-yell 'Look at this.'

I'm acting like a child again, and it feels exciting. Not having to rely on yourself to fix everything, but to have someone care for you. Crammed full of vouchers and fancy make up, I can tell my brothers actually want to make this Christmas special and that feels good. Being wanted. 

I look over to Xavier and see him examining his gifts  with interest 'How did they know what to get me?' 

He looks up and smiles 'They went to that big posh department store in the city where they hired a personal shopper, they just told her you like makeup, fashion and that shit.'