My Mum loved Christmas. I guess this isn't a big deal as most people do love Christmas, but I guess... she really did. I got another letter about them, and... sometimes I wish I could just cry. I can't. It's... it won't...
But I'm getting off the subject. My Mum would insist on a tonne of fresh evergreen, and wanted my first Christmas tree to be spectacular. I guess it was, and I wish I could remember it. I wish that I could remember what her voice sounded like, or how she smelled. Something.
I'm not alone here... I mean, Hermione's lost her father. Luna lost her Mum as well. Then there's Neville. I almost think that I'm better off than Neville; I can't imagine what that's like for him. I wish I knew him better.
So many things that I wish I could do for everyone. Make Voldemort go away, for one. I know that most of them think I'm full of myself -- they've all just said so -- but I wonder how they would handle it? They were all warm and happy and got to play with toys and weren't kept shut into a cupboard. They wrote letters to Father Christmas and received what they wanted in the morning.
And fine, this sounds whingy and self-important. Find me someone who isn't self-important, and good luck with that. But do I want this? No. The only people who know that are the ones that matter to me: Hermione, Ron, Remus, Sirius... Tony. But everyone else? I don't much care.
So I wonder. And I try not to let it bother me.
And I miss her... I miss them both. I miss what we never got to have.
Off to Hogsmeade tomorrow, so I'm cutting this short now.