Life in Search ✔️

27 ~ Wrong

"Ashy, wake up!"

Ronnie punches my arm repeatedly, even though she slept in here last night so I could wake her up. How the tables have turned.

I really am getting old.

Groaning, I get up, "Munchkin, I'm awake."

My bed's comfier, so is the idea of sleeping past seven. Wandering downstairs with Ronnie on my back, mom and dad meet us in the TV room. "Morning, Hun."

I yawn, "Merry Christmas."

We open gifts, Ronnie squealing with every present she opens. My excitement, while on a more contained level, is evident. I haven't had a Christmas this good in a while. It's not just about the gifts, but the atmosphere.

There's no tension in the air. Mom and I are laughing like there's no tomorrow, the constant battle we've been fighting is momentarily forgotten. We feel normal.

It's nice.

Remembering Scarlett's gift, I run up to my room. "Mom, there's one more." Handing her the package, she eyes it curiously. "It's from Scarlett."

Raising an eyebrow, she opens it, gasping as she takes in the frame. "It's...it's perfect."

Flipping it around, Dad grabs it. It's a painting of our family in front of the house, mom's wreath on proud display. Damn, if I thought my gift was amazing, this one's out of this world.

Sometimes I feel so disassociated from the rest of my family, my last name is just one of many reminders that I don't belong. This reminds me, I'm meant to be a part of this picture.

Abuela and Dad work in the kitchen, my stomach growling as I smell the food. Nothing is better than Christmas breakfast.

There's a knock at the door, pulling mom from her spot on the couch.

"Good morning, Mrs. Valdez, do you mind if I kidnap your children?" Ella asks brightly.

Forcing my eyes open from my pre-food coma nap, I find my friend walking towards me. "Ells, I want food."

And a nap. And a fuzzy blanket. Maybe even some hot chocolate.

I'm not feeling too picky.

"I have a new lens that I'm dying to use, plus it's tradition." She sighs, throwing my jacket at me.

Covering my face, I sigh. "What's tradition, exactly?"

The jacket gets pulled off my face, "Pictures on Christmas morning."

"But I'm in pajamas." And I'm not changing.

"So am I, now let's move it." She drags me off the couch and into the floor.

"Mom, help?" I beg, flailing around pathetically.

She shrugs, "I suppose it's fine, as long as I know where you are."

"Oh, we're going to the Rhodes'." Ella offers, forgetting about me to help Ronnie.