Oliver drew in a breath and let it out slowly as she headed away. He moved over and sat down on the sofa for a moment, staring blankly at the floor. He hated Christmas. Hated it with a passion.
The last time he'd celebrated it, he'd been four. He had very spotty memories of unwrapping a firetruck, and a play archery set. Memories of warm cinnamon buns fresh from the oven--made from scratch by Lenora.
Of being swept up into his mom's arms in a warm, loving embrace and of being happy.
The next year, he'd asked Santa to bring his parents back. Needless to say, when they weren't anywhere to be seen that Christmas morning, he'd given up caring about Christmas and stopped believing in Santa Claus.
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Date: 2009-12-22 07:35 pm (UTC)The last time he'd celebrated it, he'd been four. He had very spotty memories of unwrapping a firetruck, and a play archery set. Memories of warm cinnamon buns fresh from the oven--made from scratch by Lenora.
Of being swept up into his mom's arms in a warm, loving embrace and of being happy.
The next year, he'd asked Santa to bring his parents back. Needless to say, when they weren't anywhere to be seen that Christmas morning, he'd given up caring about Christmas and stopped believing in Santa Claus.