I had always loved Christmas. Growing up, I would walk up the stairs from the room in the basement to be met with the glowing, multicolored lights of the tree that gave me a childlike flip-flop of excitement in my heart. I still feel a growing warmth when I think back on it to this day, remembering the homemade ornaments that lined the branches of our Christmas tree, the cookies that my family baked every year to give out to teachers, coaches, and bus drivers, the music that would stick in my brain for hours. Now, though, the only thing to be joyful about was the fact that I hadn’t seen a roach in my dorm in at least 12 hours. What a dismally good start to my day. I exhaled and walked out of my dorm room, hoping a change of scenery would bring me into better spirits. The carpeted hallways did nothing for my melancholy; the vending machines brought me no glee. My feet took me to the communal kitchen where I was greeted by my dear friend Ella. “Abigail!” she addressed me jovially. “You’ve finally taken yourself out of isolation! I thought I wouldn’t see you again until the spring!” she exclaimed dramatically. She thrust forward a mug and a small packet as she lamented her distress over not seeing me. I took Ella’s offering and examined it- a hot chocolate packet. I filled the mug with water and stuck it into the microwave to heat up. Sighing, I begn to reply. “Hey, Ella. Yeah, I’ve been a little bit…,” I say, waving my arms in hopes she’ll understand what I mean. “Just kind of sad that I’m missing Christmas at home, you know?” “I get it, Abby. Being away for college sucks, but not being able to visit your family during Christmas? That’s rough. I feel so lucky that I’m leaving tomorrow- I wish everyone had that chance. Will you be okay?” “Yeah…” I reply, tough my face likely told a different story. The microwave beeped loudly, interrupting our conversation. I took the mug out of the microwave and emptied the contents of the packet into it. The cup steamed and I smiled, nearly remembering what it felt like to come inside after playing in the snow, discard layers of coats and sweaters, and cozy up on the couch to watch whatever dumb show my siblings and I were into at the time. Then, I looked into the mug and saw the sludgy, unmixed chocolate powder floating in hot water. I grimaced. “Ok…” Ella replied, unconvinced. “Well, you can always come to me for hot chocolate packets and cheer if you need it!” I smiled at her and departed the kitchen, ready to assume the role of a hermit once again. Making that familiar journey up to my dorm was more dreary than usual. I just felt truly and utterly alone. I longed to smell cookies baking, to hang ornaments on the tree with my family, to sing festive music every hour of every day. I thought back on the impossibly long paper chains my sister and I would make to decorate our house. I reached my dorm sadly, wishing there was any decoration to liven things up. At my desk, I folded up some old notes that I didn’t need anymore and began to cut a snowflake. I hung it up above my bed and smiled just a little bit. That was when I noticed the box. I’m not quite sure how it ended up there. I was a bit fearful, to be honest, worried that someone had broken into my dorm. But it was gorgeously wrapped, and for some reason, seeing it just filled my heart with warmth. Against my better judgement, I opened it. Inside was a tin of my mother’s homemade cookies, some ornaments from home that my siblings and I had made when we were young, and scraps from those paper chains. I nearly cried, clutching the gifts close to my heart. I decided that Christmas away from home may be bearable after all. This was the little piece of my old life that I needed. I took out my phone and called home, filled with a new gratitude for my family and the Christmas spirit that I was missing.
