It was Christmas. I layed on the bed, staring at the snowglobe across the room. It was one of those wind-up snow globes. I remember when I first got it, it was my most prized possession. I loved all the small details that were so carefully made, you’d have to really look for them to see. And the way the snow would fall to the bottom just as the song ends, I loved that. I wanted to hear it one last time but I was too weak to get up. There was a deafening silence in the room. I loved this time of the year. Everything felt so alive. At least it used to.  I remember when I looked out into the sky, the night was black as ever, but the city gave off a blue aura lighting up the dark sky. The bright, dazzling stars that were sprinkled across the sky winked at me as I looked up.  I remember how I loved going out at night to admire all the Christmas decorations around the city. Some were so bright, you could see faint floating dots after you stare for too long.  I remember how I loved the feeling of the cold breeze brushing against my face so that when I get home to my apartment I can feel the cold atmosphere change to a warm and welcoming place. Most of all, I remember how I loved how comforting it felt. The warmth of my apartment hugging me, the scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies dancing in the air, and watching my favorite wind-up snowglobe sing as the snow falls to the bottom of the globe. I guess it’s not Christmas that I miss, but the feeling of home. But now that feeling is based on memory. With only the snowglobe I brought from home that sat across the room reminding me. It’s okay though, as long as I have the memory of what it felt like. But I know my time is near and soon I’ll forget.