There was a solitary tree.
There was a solitary tree that stood in the corner. Still as regal and as magestic as the image in my memory. The Christmas balls still twinkling in that magical way and the christmas lights still as mesmarizing. I spent the christmases of my childhood with this regal tree. Unwrapping countless gifts which were placed under it and thousands of joyful memories.

Nothing's the same anymore.

The tree was still there, and the fond memories illuminated it more than the dim Christmas lights. What comes with it, is the longing. Longing for a christmas in my childhood. Where wrapped parcels were more than just another thing to store and where P100 dolls were still joys. Where christmas carols were still merry and the wait seem so short. Where your parents and your other relatives still took the time to buy you presents instead of simply giving you the money.

The christmas of my childhood where chirstmas was not just another chore. The Christmas that felt special, happy and celebrated.

There was a solitary tree that stood in the corner. Still as regal and as magestic as the image in my memory. But without the colorful presents and joyful, out of tune, melodies, it was just another tree. Just like Christmas was just another night.