White Christmas

The month of December comes, and I imagine myself having white Christmas every year.

The 24th night and me walking in the Christmas wonderland.

The snowflakes poured down, I see them as some pretty white crystals for which I would run to collect and add to my collection as a 7-year-old. The flickering sky, tiny stars light up the way right, and the long moon night. The Christmas carols sang- “Joy to the World” and the crowd smooched in the thick jackets. Past the street in my red heels and four layers of jackets, I see the most beautiful Christmas tree and then another and then the best one, and then the best of all. All across the land, the trees adorned in yellow lights and white fall. The breeze whispering and fragmenting the stillness of the silence blowing down my ears. I see mistletoe hanging around the town and people enjoying the Christmas symbol of love. The neighborhood families roamed around the city slightly smiling at me as a sign wishing me "Merry Christmas." I reach the gingerbread house adorned in Christmas spirit, the miniatures of Santa and Sleight welcome me inside the house. In I go and see the Christmas furniture like none other. I lay under the 6 feet tall tree cuddled in a blanket and my Christmas PJs. Enjoying the marshmallow hot chocolate cup gazing at the Christmas spirit near the fire pit. I imagine the big fat white-bearded man with a red coat parking his sleight with eight reindeer and making a path through the chimney Taking out his naughty-nice list and placing a bunch of gifts under the tree, sneaking out cookies and a cup full of milk on his way out. I see him flying up the sky on reindeer screaming his patented "Ho Ho Ho". The shadow of him in front of the moon makes one believe in myth and spread joy to the world.

This is “all I want for Christmas”.