All I Want for Christmas is Pooch

1

MIRA

Waking up to the familiar buzz of my alarm, I kicked open my pink fluffy duvet and stretched my aching limbs. It was the first day in December and I had an exceptional expectation for the month.

Unlike the last five Christmases of my life, I anticipated a gift from Santa this year. I expected it to arrive from the fifteenth or twentieth; but then you never know.

I believed I had always been a good girl; stopped playing pranks when I was a eighteen, put in extra effort in the hospital I worked at and never caused problems for my family.

I was damn sure this gift would definitely come. My subconscious assured me the naughty list had nothing on me.

Climbing out of my single bed, I made it and waltzed through the adjoining door that led to my bathroom. I stood over the sparkly white washbasin and peered into the mirror.

My bright hazel eyes stared back at me, taking in my flushed skin and chapped lips. My red hair was not a bird’s net and I was impressed- my training had turned out successful.

I hurriedly did the usual morning clean up and dressed up in a cute yellow cardigan made out of wool. I paired it with a short brown flare skirt and brown sandals.

Running a single swipe of my pink lipstick, I grabbed my stuff and dashed to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Ma and Pa,” I greeted my parents who were already sat in the dining room to have breakfast.

“Good morning, Mira,” they both chorused together and I kissed them both on their cheeks.

My younger sister was flipping pancakes in a pan. She had just returned from college for a long vacation. I walked up to her and placed my neck on her shoulders. She grumpily but playfully jerked my head away.

“Extra load,” she grunted. “Sit and have breakfast.”

I chuckled, “Come on. Why is your face all crumpled up this morning because you are preparing breakfast?”

She had not given me an answer, instead she gruntled her displeasure. My sister hated doing chores, unlike me who enjoyed doing them so much.

I took a pancake from the plate beside her and packed it in a paper bag. Putting it in my handbag, I bade my family goodbye. I would be late if I sat for breakfast.

I knew my best friend, Kathy would soon arrive so she could drive us both to the hospital in her car. A pink salon waited outside for me as I made my way out of the gate. I smiled at the human behind the wheel as I got in.

“This colour always blinds my eyes,” I commented on her choice of colour for the car, like I always did.

“That comment always breaks my heart,” she flashed me her dentition while I settled in.

She stepped on the gas and we hit the road. As we always did, she let down the roof of the car and blasted loud music.

No one would ever imagine, in their wildest dreams, that we both were professional nurses who should know better about the impact of noise pollution. We looked like teenagers driving into the night.

I believed we only live once and we had better make the most out of it and be happy.

The early December chills hit me as Kathy and I screamed the lyrics of What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction.