I've always believed my Christmas's were picture perfect. A soft blanket of snow, giggling children in Christmas sweater staring dreamily into fire, Christmas music pipped into all the room via synchronized radios... has only ever been real for me on the back of those big tubs of cookies my family passes around. My holiday seasons have dozens of Filipinos bursting out of every room, calling out to each other in a mix of languages, the elders speaking in their native tongue, which, except for a few profane terms has always sounded like a made up language to me, and the younger ones all in English. Tons and tons of children, high on sugar and the holiday spirit run around the house chasing one another, while the newborns get passed from aunt to aunt.
Ask anyone of my younger relatives, the best part of Christmas for any child at the age of eight had to have been Santa. I was old enough to think I had all his ways pinned down, and could manipulate him to get any present I wanted, but still young enough to fully believe in him. It was at this age that my very small world came crashing down of me, this Christmas, I was to experience...The Death of Santa.
I'm struggling where to go with my story. I have so many ideas, I don't know what's too much or too little or if I'm just jumping all over the place. I have so many details I want to infuse, but don't know where or how to put them in. I can't really tell if this sounds like me or not, or if its pretty bland with no specific voice at all, so any input on that would be much appreciated!
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1 comment:
HI! So. I love all the details that you put in this paragraph, I feel like I was there at the table! The only thing I think you should work on is putting in Santa more often. I felt like in the beginning you were saying everything about family and then just randomly put in Santa. And this definitly sounds like you! But maybe if you put alittle bit more sass in there people would enjoy it even more :)
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