Christmas Morning

Christmas Morning

I’m alive, 57, and it’s early on Christmas morning 2025.

I slowly feel the bright sun. I’m holding my wife as she sleeps. I have my nose buried in the wild mane of curls just breathing. It’s whatever fruit salad shampoo scented and it’s calming. There’s nobody running in to wake us for presents at dawn. My wife pulls back and offers an attempt: “Merry Christmas!” I smile to let her know I see her.

I’m stirring and crying quietly into my oatmeal and Lesley is upset but Lesley. Sadie and Zoe are sleeping still at 9:30am. They rise and “LETS OPEN PRESENTS.” I don’t see anything here.

They leave for the Shojis. I can’t go there either and stay home.