Guest Writer 
Sometimes, a long pitch-dark Christmas can last for weeks, months, or even years. In my case, it was years – so definite, even. Utterly humming the sound of engraved memories as I wait for the night sky to be painted with colorful specs of last and longing for the two Santas to come as I hear the cheers of the songbirds twinkle in the night.
Sitting on the cold wooden chair while watching the stars scatter in a deep moon so bright, realizing I was still not confiding – it felt like a glass closet that my fellow feeling could see me inside, but trapped nonetheless.
“It’s Christmas break!” My friend spoke.
Now, December’s bareness is everywhere. I know I will feel the freezing wind again as I walk down the street and watch it turn blue. I know I will see children unwrapping presents around the tree. I know the carols will begin. More importantly, I know there are now two empty chairs at the table on Christmas.
“Thank you for the gifts, Ma, Pa!”
“It’s already 12! Come here, let’s eat.”
“Let’s see the fireworks, everyone!”
It was a plethora of emotions; as I heard those words, so pure and simple truth, yet is never simple.
“It’s unfair,” I thought.
Maybe it was the grand scheme of things; it was hard to bend and accept the naked truth. Now, I only hold those memories of Christmas in the air, and realized that it was okay being the mere bystander knowing that I will and forever be remembering two Santas.
“I miss my grandmother and my father,” I whispered.
