It's Christmas Eve and I have a migraine. It's kind of painful to use my brain, but I can't help but think of my dad and the migraines that kept us from Halloweens and Fourths of July and the windows I looked out of as I swore at my dad and fireworks and dressed up children and their obsessive, controlling moms, because they were put in cheer leading camp, and their drunken, negligent fathers, because they came to class bragging about breaking the glass coffee table with his camera when they were in a fight. Now I just curse my niece and nephew because they are difficult, like all children, and all I can do is ignore it until they grow up.