It’s early.

It’s early Christmas morning. Really early. I’ve always had a hard time sleeping the night before Christmas and this year nothing has changed. As a kid I’m sure it was the anticipation of presents and the chaotic free-for-all that would ensue when everyone else in the house woke up. But now, as an adult, I still can’t sleep. I’m not looking forward to any big gifts or man-toys I’ve been dying to get my hands on. As an adult, I buy what I want for myself. I envy Michelle. She sleeps like a stone the night before Christmas. Maybe it has something to do with being the one that stays up and helps Santa with the final touches. Each Christmas Eve, I’m upstairs waiting for her to finish doing whatever it is she does the night before. It seems that in these moments, hearing the rustling in distant parts of the house, I’m transformed back 20 years, waiting for the late night, midnight and early morning hours to tick by. Hmm…I might need to be the last one in bed next year, or maybe not.

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