Almost like snowing.
Before I was seven, I had never attended any Christmas parties.
But every Christmas morning, I'll wake up with presents beside my pillow.
I don't come from a well-to-do family so presents mean a great deal.
I ever tried staying up late, hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa. Because, how can he get through the window grilles?
But I can never stay awake beyond eleven.
Then I'll force myself to wake up really early in the morning, 'Cuz Santa might be late'.
I was the one who was late.
My presents were already there.
At seven, Aunt Jes (I think) decided to hold a Christmas party.
My first. And the cousin's first.
I remember all of us crowding Granny's small 3-room flat.
There was a simple Christmas tree, and very regular-looking balloons hung from the walls.
Under the Christmas tree were many nicely wrapped presents. Just like in the movies.
The stuff toys were too big. So they were left unwrapped.
Every of the little ones crossed our fingers, hoping to be the new owners of this cuddly toys.
I went home with a few storybooks and a balloon.
Since seven, all my presents were storybooks.
But I don't mind them at all.
Of course I longed for a stuff toy.
But lil' sis usually gets them. And she'll bring it home.
The cuddly toys come home with us anyway. I'm cool with that.
That night, granduncle sent us home in his taxi.
It was kind of cramped because we had 4 adults and 4 kids packed into one taxi.
I was at the sides.
And I remembered looking out of the car windows, holding my balloon tightly, thinking...
" Thank you, Santa. This was a good Christmas. I feel blessed."