Christmas isn’t what it was as a kid.

Christmas isn’t what it was as a kid.

Back when the house felt fuller,

when laughter filled every corner

and love arrived wrapped in noise and warmth.

I miss being surrounded by my family,

the way the room buzzed with togetherness,

the way happiness felt simple

measured in torn wrapping paper

and everything crossed off my list.

Back then,

nothing felt missing.

Everyone was right there.

Alive.

Loud.

Certain.

Now we’re scattered

across cities, years,

and places we can’t drive to anymore.

There aren’t many of us left,

and the quiet settles heavier

than the stale December air.

The lights still glow,

the songs still play,

but they echo differently now.

Like they’re trying to remember us

the way we were.

Christmas didn’t lose its magic

it just grew older,

like we did.

Carrying more memory than moment,

more longing than surprise.

And still,

when I close my eyes,

I can hear them

feel that warmth again,

if only for a breath.