“'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.” I recited aloud. That was my favorite part about the Christmas season, was reading “A Visit From Saint Nicholas”. I quietly hummed a carol to myself as I prepared to go to a party I had been invited to sometime earlier that week.

I bundled up and opened the door, and was pleasantly surprised with a refreshing gust of cold New York air. I closed and locked my door and began my trip down the street's cluttered sidewalks. I passed a bakery full of people trying to warm themselves' with hot cocoa and fresh-baked cookies. The delicious scents from the shop drifted into my lungs and I inhaled deeply: Cinnamon, peppermint, and other spices mixed to form a heavenly blend of temptation. I couldn't stand it any longer, and went inside and bought several things.
As I strolled along the pavement, I heard carolers singing “Carol of the Bells” on a street corner. I stopped to listen and a nostalgia welled up within me. I remembered my family and friends back in Ann Arbor, Michigan as I continued to listen.
I gave the carolers some money, then left.

I was almost to my destination when I heard my cell phone ringing. “Hello?” I said. I didn't recognize the number, so I assumed someone probably dialed a wrong number. “Hi, is this Isabelle Carroll?” said the voice. “This is she.” I replied, “May I ask who's calling?”
“Oh my goodness, you sound so grown up. It's mom.”
I hadn't heard from my mother in a year, so I was shocked. “M-mom? What's the matter? Are dad and the boys okay?”
“Yes, they're all fine, sweetie. I was just calling to, um, see how you were doing.” she said.
“I'm doing alright. You?”
“I'm doing well. We all miss you,” she paused, “How is your Christmas going so far?”
Lonely. Cold. Not very cheery. I chose to tell her, “Cold. But it's pretty here. How about you guys?”
“It's cold here, too. We-” she started to say something, but hesitated. “Yes?” I said inquisitively. “We, the family and I, would like you to, uh,” she stopped. “Mom, what is it? You can tell me anything.”
“I know you aren't a kid, sweetie. The family and I would really love it if you came home for Christmas, since we haven't seen you in a while.” Two and a half years to be exact, I said to myself. She continued, “We found some really good plane tickets at a fair price. Your dad and I will pay for them if you decide to come home.”
“I will have to see if I can get some days off from work, and get a school excuse,” I wavered.
“Well if it's going to be a problem for you, you don't have to come home. But it really would be nice to have you here.” She sounded upset, the desperation in her voice obvious. “Hang on, I will call you back.” I stated, mind racing. “Okay sweetie. Talk to you soon.”
The line went dead and I made a few calls to work and school. I got a week off from school because I was all of the teachers' favorite. Work was a bit tougher to get off from, even though I had 128 vacation days. I ran to the party I was supposed to have been at over thirty minutes ago and dropped my gifts off. I apologized to my friend and I quickly called my mom back and told her I was coming home. She yelled “Chris! Buy the tickets! Isabelle is coming home!” I heard my eight- year-old brother scream in delight, and my older brother, Leo, say “Isa's coming home? Awesome!”
When I was on the plane, I felt this joy and happiness that I hadn't felt in years. “This is what the Christmas season is about.” I said. “Being joyful and spending time with family.” I got off of the plane and went to the terminal. I was almost crushed by Leo as he ran up and lifted me off the ground to give me one of his signature “Reserved-for-Isa-Only” bear-hugs. I cried as I hugged each one of them, and we drove home. “This is what the Christmas season is about.” I said again. “This is the heart of the holidays.”
                                          The End.