Chapter 10: The White Christmas

Am I prepared for this Christmas?

I am aware that many people have been anticipating their Christmas gifts since the beginning of the cold season. We dive headfirst into the holiday shopping season, searching high and low for the most thoughtful presents to give to our loved ones. Having a cup of coffee in the snow is a match made in heaven.

Even if you don't normally buy coffee, you can find yourself in the store after the first snowfall, stocking up on beans from the companies whose commercials you were watching. Although red isn't my preferred color, I can't get enough of it this time of year.

A pair of gloves, a bag of coffee, a membership to Netflix so you can watch all those Hallmark movies, a warm sweater, and a tree.

Though today I feel a little off. No, I won't deny that I like the holiday season. To put it simply, I love this time of year because I don't have to restrict my food intake. I no longer have to worry about keeping track of my macros. Sure, I'll accept a weight increase if it happens.

When it comes to spending money, I won't be giving it any thought. This time, though, I have a companion who can handle my finances. Don't misunderstand me. However, males often go to great lengths to pamper their female partners. Things like these happen automatically. They were born with it. You need only ask once for something like a blank check or, if you're fortunate, the full use of a credit card. Who could possibly dislike that?

It's not the same Christmas for me, I can say that.

My mind is continually wandering to the surprise I have in store for me later tonight. At my client's lunch, I found myself unable to pay attention. Some of us who "work from home" really do put in time on holidays.

My adrenaline was pumping as I tried to predict what was going to happen. Given that I received a word this day: "I want to surprise you with something. This is something that will stick with you always."

There was no embellishment or explanation in the message. There's no happy face here. Don't place any labels on anything.

I took a glance around the room where we were meant to be enjoying the most joyous time of the year. Note that I stated "ought to."

I took a gander at the contents of my Brooklyn studio. I'm a native of Music City, and that's where I call home. The stereotypical female from Nashville is a shoe-loving, makeup-free tomboy. I was always one of those ladies who would only let her stylist cut her hair. No treatments, nothing. My mother insists that I not allow anybody to touch my face. That's also what Brad says.

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Perhaps my strange disposition is a result of Brad's absence. We could have all been here to mark this momentous occasion if he hadn't had to leave early for meetings. For us, the holiday season extends well beyond December 25th. Actually, it goes beyond that. Some extraordinary events happened on this day.

It seemed like I'd stepped into a fairytale. On the table in the middle was a battery-operated birch tree. A wreath of pre-lit frosted berries adorns the front entrance. Candles and scented socks. In one corner was a massive Christmas tree, all decorated for the holiday. The one and only object that caught my eye was behind the counter. After my grandfather's clock, I found my favourite ceramic tree and a tiny Christmas card.

Presently, I was experiencing goose bumps. The whole card was crimson. Do you think it looks more like a red for Christmas or a Valentine's Day red? Have they changed in any way? At this point, every shade of red appears the same to me.

I stepped up to the table and took the card from there.

"It has a fragrance," I said.

The card smells like roses.

The card smells like roses. I smiled when i read those words -

"To the one I saw for the first time today, dressed as a lovely elf."

 

 

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