<Lewis Davis>

It's the twenty-fourth of December, which is usually known as Christmas Eve. It's a great holiday for some and dreading for others. The kids usually dread it. Oh, the anticipation for their presents to arrive under the tree the next morning. Not only that, but Christmas Eve is probably the longest night of the year.

I remember being a child and counting the hours until Christmas day. I hated Christmas Eve at the time. The clock seemed to tick slower and I'd get angsty and stomp in frustration when I would wake up in the middle of the night and see the clock strike 2:23 AM. 

Ugh, that was such a hassle.

Unfortunately, the older you get the less of the anticipation you feel, because, hey, you're used to it by now. For me, it was much different. I didn't get any presents after the age of fourteen because I came out to my family then. My family is homophobic, so it was painful not being fed on Christmas day or Christmas Eve or Easter because god forbid feeding a human being that points their preference to somewhere else.

Some of the other tenants have children. The parents let them play out in the front of the building where there is a small lot blanketed with snow. I could hear them screeching outside from my window, it's comforting watching children play in the snow.

Two older girls were rolling a large ball around, piling up enough snow for a snowman. The rest of the children were balling snowballs in their hand, throwing poorly aimed snowballs at each other. I quietly snickered to myself as one of the younger boys began throwing at the two older girls.

Where I'm from, it snowed there but not as much as New York does. We would barely get an inch but we would get loads of ice. There was a car accident every morning because the ice would get so bad on the roads. Sometimes, I stayed home from school because the roads were just too dangerous to drive on.

I tapped my finger on the window sill, entranced with the parents standing on the sidewalk. Some of them were smoking a fag, some were sipping on their coffee, and some were staring at their phone. I noticed there was this Latino dad taking pictures of his son, grinning as he videotaped his son threw snowballs at the girls.

Children are fascinating creatures. They're small and fragile and too pure to understand the dullness of the adult world. I hope all children's lives are colorful and entertaining. Full of dreams and curiosity. And they are believers. They will believe in anything. Themselves, others, and their fantasies of what they want to be when they grow up.

In my childhood, my friends wanted to become policemen and teachers. The girls wanted to be ballerinas and singers and dancers, and the boys wanted to be football players and world leaders, it was vague and it was super unrealistic. At first, I didn't want to be anything. I had a hard time figuring out who I wanted to be when I grew up.

I picked up the hobby of drawing and Nana noticed it when I was young. She would spoil me with buying me high quality colored pencils and sketchbooks. I still have the colored pencils. They're all about the size of my pinkie considering I've used them so much since I was eight. They still work well and I still love them. Sometimes I'm scared I'll use them all up, so I avoid using them. That was one of the only things I had to remember about Nana other than my sketchbooks she gave me.

As I said, I struggled to choose what career I wanted to do when I graduated from secondary school. I was deciding if I wanted to go to a university and become some boring businessman in London or wing it on the way.

I'm so glad I chose the U.S. instead of staying home. I feel so much more free here. Like I didn't have chains on my wrist anymore.

After meeting Matthew, I feel more like the person I strive to be. I'm not constantly thirsty or putting myself out there.

I'm me.

I grinned at the playing children once more. I turned to Matthew, he sat on the sofa, a crossword in his hands.

"What're you thinking about?" He mumbled, focused with his puzzle.

"I know you can hear me," I cackled, joking with him.

"I try not to," he responded slowly.

I leaned over the back of the sofa, reading what he had solved so far.

"Harmony is six down," I whispered into his ear, confident.

"It's too short, it needs to be eight letters long." Matthew replied.

I squinted at the clue for six down. H was a given and so was O.

"Handsome," Matthew scribbled down.

"Yes, dear?" I snorted.

He rolled his eyes, trying to hide his smile.

"You are such a goof," he yawned.

"You love me and you know it," I blurted out.

He gazed at the puzzle, silent.

"Yeah, you're right," he glanced at me before continuing the crossword puzzle.

A grin crept onto my face, smooching him on his head.

I'm a goof. I'm his goof.

No, I'm me.