Merry Christmas

It’s a season of happiness, a holiday to celebrate joy

Or at least, that’s what it’s supposed to be

My eight-year-old eyes scan the room, looking at all of the flashy

festive decorations that are decked all around it

not sure what there is to be joyful about

All the laughter and joy of the holiday is gone

as if Santa stole them both on his trip back to the North Pole

The stockings are hung but they are limp, void of life

the fireplace is on but the room is cold and empty

the chocolate chip cookies don’t taste deliciously sweet like last year

instead they’re bitter and crumbling to pieces

the presents are wrapped up in nice little boxes with gossamer bows

containing exciting new gifts that I’m supposed to be opening

but all I want is my family back.

The tree is up and decorated with dazzling ornaments

just as it was every other year

but this year, it‘s not the same

There’s not just one tree, there’s two

One covered in Star Wars and Powerpuff Girls ornaments here,

and one covered with I Love Lucy and Disney princess ornaments there

One house filled to the brim with family here,

and one small, sparse gathering there

One Christmas at my dad's,

and another one at my mom’s.

How can I be happy on a holiday that’s meant for a family

when mine has only just fallen apart?