26 Minutes Into Christmas

It's 26 minutes into Christmas, yet it doesn't feel like Christmas at all... For so many years Jake and I would lay restless in our beds waiting for the hour hand to reach the 5. That was the time we opened presents; our parents could either sleep through our whining or allow us to rip open the presents, freshly wrapped just hours before (I knew my procrastination had to come from somewhere). I miss the giddyness that we used to feel. Although, it really was never about the presents.

I have dreaded this Christmas for my whole life. The Christmas in which I would be 18 years old, the year I would stop receiving presents from my Aunts, Uncles, and Grandparents. Stupid, stupid family politics. You see, on my Dad's side of the family, there is much unspoken conflict. I won't get into it now, but let's just say that The Goederts are not as cheery as they appear. Does being 18 mean that you don't deserve to feel the Joy of opening presents among all of your other relatives? Does being 18 years old switch off your capability to feel Christmas cheer? Not only are the presents taken away, but the tradition in itself. Opening presents on Christmas morning at my Nana's has been a comforting part of my life every year since I was a kid. You ALWAYS feel loved because somehow, they get you exactly what you want. Now that I'm 18, I get to watch my younger cousins enjoy that tradition while I sit on the sidelines. Although, It really was never about the presents. e