Twinkling Lights and Familiar Music. It went too fast.

Rush is the utmost perfect word that could be used to describe the holidays and my state of being since I've been home to smelly Houston. I just want to be settled and in tact, and I'm not, but I will be; I've promised myself.

One eye peeks at the bulging numbers on my clock at set increments on Christmas morning, from four o'clock to 8:21 when my dad rings the doorbell: the first to arrive as usual. For some reason I still have that childish urgency for the sleepwalk towards the evergreen. Presents are always nice at any age I guess, but I think now that I've experienced time away from home, family gathering is even more exciting. I get to see my three beautiful babies, my brother and sister, all the faces drenched with satisfaction, and all at the same time. I made the biscuits this morning, and I burned my finger. My sister flipped the pancakes, my sister in law cooked the eggs while Killy jumped from one of us to the other redirecting our attention to his lack of it (yea right). Dezma sat at the table with hungry breath eating a sugary popcorn ball. Spanish conversation with mamas. It was the most beautiful Christmas morning I have ever had.