Once Upon a Christmas Morning

another story to prove that siblings are the greatest gift of all

Once upon a time, there lived a little family of five, in a wooden house, on a Hawai'i hill.

It was 1998, and the darkness of Christmas morning felt laden with navy dreams as it swirled around the city lights of Honolulu, mirroring the whispy clouds and twinkling stars above. Bright yellow dots, set like gems in the waking sky-scrapers, winked at the eight-year-old girl in the house on the hill. As though they knew she was watching. Her eyes searched the vista, pouring over the magic of a day before dawn.

The backs of her hands kissed her collar-bones as her fingertips grasped the edge of her window frame, neck straining up to launch her sight out into the world. Her bare tippy-toes curled, gripping the round bars of the white, wrought iron bed frame she’d found sanctuary in for as long as she could remember.

It was quiet, but the air was alive with brisk reverie.

Julia heard a gentle knocking at her bedroom door. She inhaled sharply, vibrating with excitement, nearly slipping from her perch! Then, clamoring over her light blue and pastel pink flowered bedspread, Julia swiftly crossed the little room. She opened the door a crack, making an effort to contain her joy by containing the space between the door and its frame. She peered up at her big brother. He looked down at her, giving a sleepy, closed-lipped smile, groggily nodding his head toward his shared bedroom, the boy's room. Julia could hardly feel her own feet. It was Christmas!

Brian led the way across the landing at the top of the stairs, picking up the Christmas stocking Santa left outside his and Riley’s room. Santa was kind and convenient like that, leaving the kids with stockings full of little joys to enjoy until the parents woke up to let them in on the juicier goods.

Julia scooped her stocking up, too, hugging it close to her chest while grabbing the third that sat waiting for the yet-to-be-seen middle child. They quietly crept into the boys’ bedroom without letting their eyes veer to the downstairs Christmas tree. Mom and Dad slept soundly in the room next door. They shut the door behind them, flicking on the lights.

At once, little Julia started talking a mile a minute. Riley sat up in his bed. His legs still stretched out long in his comforter. His hand reached up to hover above his pile of sandy hair as he grimaced at the light. The youngest waddled over to him, clutching the two stockings. They hung heavy with oranges, chocolates, and knick-knacks. She placed her older brother’s beside him as her own began to spill out on the floor.

Pouncing on the goodies, Julia picked up the shimmering candies, urging her older brothers to tell her what was in their stockings, too. The three children gathered around in a circle on the beige carpet and, layer by layer, released the matching treats into the air of Christmas morning.