Her eyes were alive with the dance of the sugarplum fairies. A childish dream now reflected in the orbs of her soul. Like a child, she sits back as the spirit of Christmas comes to life on the old tattered tree branches. The memories of her childhood buried within each ornament she hung upon the fading green branches, taking time to trace the cracks that held so much love. Each time the chasing lights illuminated its reflection on the panes of the windows, she remembered when there was no pain to encase her in a world of her self-created misery.