Let's pretend it's Christmas. We can talk in bed in hushed tones, listening for noises on the roof. We can giggle and pretend that the knots in our stomache are butterflies of excitement for the presents we'll find in the morning. We can keep each other awake by whispering "you still awake?". I'll put some carols in the CD player and pretend they are playing all night on a transistor radio wedged between the bed and the wall. We can laugh and then stop to listen because you thought you heard him on the roof.

Let's pretend it's Christmas. We can creep out the door and down the hall. We can imagine that the pile of bills are all cards we are waiting to open in the morning. Then an imagined mother shoos us pack to bed, giggling right along with us.

'Did you see anything?'

"No, he won't be here until they go to bed.'

'Sheesh, why are they staying up?'

Let's pretend it's Christmas and huddle under the covers, saying who had been better this year. We can try to predict what we will get bassed on our lists. We can try to transform bills and repairs into puppies and video games in our minds. We can hate not knowing but love the surprise.

Let's pretend it's Christmas and burst into the living room. We can jump up and down on the pull out bed that mom and dad slept on. We can yell and shout and count how many of the invisible presents are yours and how many our mine. Then we can drink hot chocolate and fall asleep on the couch, surrounded by the shredded, imaginary wrapping paper. Our heads resting against each other.

Tonight, let's pretend it's Christmas - one more time, before we forget.