• As I stare out the window at the blistering snow,
    tears begin to run down my flustered cheeks.
    They seem to form tiny icicles on my chin as the cold emanates from the glass pane.
    Memories dance in my head like sugar plum fairies.
    Visions of hot chocolate on cold winter mornings when I was a child.
    Comfy on the couch with a blanket, wrapped in my grandmother's arms.
    Shopping for salty holiday cashews for my grandfather.
    Now only distant memories comfort me.
    As Christmas approaches so does the fear of losing my grandmother.
    My tears turn into heartfelt sobs,
    water dropping to the floor like frozen snowballs.
    I don't want any toys underneath my tree this Christmas.
    I don't want clothing in boxes this Christmas.
    I don't want money sent in cards this Christmas.
    I just want my grandmother to be healthy and alive and happy for Christmas.
    I don't want my grandfather to cry at Christmas.
    I don't want anything but to hear her voice once again this Christmas.
    To hug her again.
    To say I love you again.
    To know that she will be with us at least once more.
    To be able to tell her Merry Christmas.