3:52 am, sitting on the living room floor.

My Bambi stuffed animal cradled tightly in my arms.

Lights flash and dance along the reflection of the glass windows.

The carpet, pine needles knotted in its tangles,

from years of being stuck there.

Stuck under my sparkling pink painted toe-nails,

the muddy paw-prints of Jake, Angel, and Kai Kitty,

the bare, calloused feet of my brother,

from too much time spent galavanting

on the gravely shore of the beach across the street,

the tired, worn out soles of my mother and father's shoes.

Stuck right there, on our living room floor.

It makes me itch.

4:07 am, Jack comes into the room.

He said he would wake up early with me, and look, he did.

Quiet, sleepy, but excited conversations,

wishing, hoping, and guessing about what is under

the snowflake covered wrapping paper.

6:00 am, prompt.

Jack and I jump on their bed.

Messy covers, messy hair, messy expressions, messy chatter.

But happy chatter.

I am joyous.