Christmas Story Essay Example

came back drunk. Despite the hectic atmosphere, Christmas always brought a unique joy and pleasant smells like nutmeg and other herbs to our home.

At bedtime, we were too excited for the next day to fall asleep. Mum regularly called for us to quiet down, growing angrier as time passed until she and Dad went to sleep. The next morning, we woke up to find our beds overflowing with the gifts we had set out the night before. We hastily tore off the wrapping paper, causing it to scatter everywhere.

My sister, a size 14 rugby player, received a surprising size 8 thong which she hilariously paraded around the room over her pyjamas in front of our parents. It was clear that drunken Dad had mixed up the stockings despite their argument over the mess. Our Christmas was filled with laughter and fun despite this mishap. Ironically, I now find myself alone in a small, cramped room with only a single bed, drawer and window every day - not how I imagined my life would be. If I could turn back time, I would. However, as winter slowly creeps in and ice patterns form on my window, my perspective shifts - my life isn't worthless but rather real.

Reflecting on how the birds migrate north for winter, leaving behind their homes and loved ones, I find myself doing the same and hoping the birds experience some remorse as I do. The snow, resembling a vast cotton wool mesh, glistens under the moon's glow. I long to frolic in it with a clear view of the full moon- an activity I enjoyed in my youth. Despite feeling the biting

cold, I prefer to move without additional layers. This sensation was never present in my younger days. Much like my thoughts, the branches sway back and forth.

While gazing at the branch, I observed a caterpillar moving towards a leaf and contemplated whether it would successfully reach its destination or fall onto the snowy ground below. Though I never found out the outcome, my thoughts were interrupted by a man's urgent voice, pleading against my infinite sadness. Emerging from behind the couch and appearing tall against the low ceiling, he was dressed entirely in white and looked ghostly and gaunt. This man reminded me of my initial summer visit, which has since led to more frequent and necessary visits culminating in my late autumn residence here.

My preferred season is winter, but it has exacerbated my illness. I am close to the end of my fight against cancer and feel deserted by my family whom I had distanced myself from in the past. A meager-looking nurse helps me move from the couch to my bed, and as I do so, I understand that this could potentially be the last instance for me to behold winter's splendor and appreciate God's marvels. Although what lies ahead may be arduous and demanding, reminiscing about a snowy night will persist with us all.