On the eve of Christmas day, a mother just got home from working overtime at the factory to a simple house. The dark and the silence of the house welcomes her.

She sets her tired ass on the hard wooden chair, raises her feet up on a box. Looking at the white school socks hanging by the window. The wind is blowing on the socks swaying like laundry hanging outside.

She opens her bag to get her gifts. She wills her tired self to stand. Walking towards where the socks are, she places her gift inside the socks, one in each.

She drinks the glass of milk from the center of their dining table, where her children left it for Santa. She heads straight to their bedroom where her children all sleep in one bed.

Looking down on them such innocence and carefree. The way they sleep, not a care of what the world will be.

"I should be giving you more, but to survive the day is all I can do for now. May you all grow up to be good children to survive this life." Her last thought as she lay her tired body beside her youngest child. Wrapping her arms around her children, she falls fast asleep.

On the morning of Christmas day, she waits for her children to see the gifts.

"Look what Mamang gave me! Chocnut! My favorate!" Her youngest child of the three enthusiastically shows her gift with her big brown chingkie eyes smiling.

"Why did Mamang only give us one each?" Innocently asks as she looks at what's in her sibling's hand.

"Because Santa is poor this Christmas. Yum!" Her middle child replies as she unwraps and pops in her mouth the whole bar of chocolate she bought from the local convenient store last night.

"She is right, so let's cook Santa her favorite breakfast and make her coffee." Her oldest son commands while he puts the chocolate in his pocket.

She has difficulty breathing as tears fall down on the side of her face while she pretends to sleep.