Aaaaah, yes, here we glance at a lovely neighborhood in Idaho. The mountain tops and valley just sprinkled with snow, almost as if the snow sits like powdered sugar on top of a fluffy beignet from New Orleans. The sun says its hellos, as the sky awakens after a long stygian night. The animals just waking , collecting their last bit of food just before the big storm. Dawn breaks and the light of a house flicks on. Just one.

Inside this sweet, sweet home, beautiful nutcrackers, mistle toe, and best of all, a freshly cut Christmas tree. The ornaments so precious and filled with memories. Under the tree, many, many gifts addressed to family members. Sitting on top of the tree, a striking glass angel highlights the tree.

Just then children dash down the stairs, eager to know what ol’ saint Nick brought them this year. Action figures of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a princess vanity, and Little People. Children thrilled about their new toys, what these minors had not understood; others not as fortunate as most of us. After an earlier scrumptious lunch, and an enjoyable time opening gifts, we all hopped in the car, and drove over to a homeless shelter. We helped serve these people lunch, assisted them on get their day to day routine, and brought small presents. Unfortunately, what I saw in the shelter won’t ever leave my mind, because I saw children and parents, miserable on Christmas. These people’s face expression gloomed, and stuck in my mind. While others as happy as joy itself, I still felt bad for the others. When I glance back at all the stuff we get to experience, we are extremely lucky, that we even get the new action figures, or new little people. Some of those people either rely on donations or things that their family gives them. We gave them some gifts, and they were ecstatic with what we supplied for them. We got home a little while later and my father had the turkey nearly prepared. Our eyes glistened, and became bigger than our stomachs, when we saw all the food that had been offered to us. The turkey smelled so fresh, sliced so perfectly making it seem as though it came from the heavens. The mashed potatoes, fluffy as a cloud, whipped almost seeming like Martha Stewart came in and selectively displayed it all. We set up an elegant Christmas dinner, and we gobbled down our food knowing that we reached our helping hands out to those who needed it.