[ WP ] Run .

It's Christmas again. And, as usual, no one wants to claim the gifts left under the tree are from them. Santa again. Always the `` jolly old elf'' leaving the gag gifts. 
 
 I joked around a bit for a laugh with the `` magical lamp'', pretending to be Aladdin, then Genie, then Darren. But, as I lay in bed that night, my eyes kept returning to the lamp. 
 
 Despite all the love and laughter today, there's been a stabbing pain of loss covering it all. `` What if,'' I think to myself, `` this is real?'' 
 
 I pick up the lamp, but instead of rubbing it, I whisper my wish into it. I think it's safer this way. I do n't believe that the lamp can actually hear. But, ten minutes later, as the clock chimes midnight, there's a knock on the door. 
 
 Filled with dread, I make my way down the stairs. I look at my mother, her eyes also filled with fear. Frozen, I watch as she slowly turns, making her way to the door. I can not help myself now. I find my voice, and I yell at her, just one word. `` Run!'' 
 
 I no longer hear her footsteps. I almost wish I did. 
 
 My father was at the door. Just as I remembered him. All smiles and joking in his gruff voice, his cheeks red, his hands calloused as they caress my cheek. The years fade away, and I'm a child again, safe in my father's arms. 
 
 If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up. If it's not, then at least I died painlessly and unaware, given the chance to relive the happiest of my years. If this is real.... 
 
 Of course, none of this bears thought, for thinking changes nothing. Action. Action is what changes things. Perhaps, this time, I will take different courses of action. 
 
 Maybe, this is what I have always dreamed of. Or maybe, this is what I have always feared. Only time will tell. But for now, I accept his hug. For a hug is nothing but a way to hide your face. My face is streaked with tears of joy and fear. What is his face showing that I can not see?
