Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Add Reply
"My Holiday"
Topic Started: Mar 20 2010, 02:30 PM (51 Views)
NathanielBlack
Member Avatar

Every year I have the most wonderful of holidays.


The decorations are always simple: A tree with slowly dimming lights; gold and silver tinsel; and a few select ornaments, each with its own special history. We set up the tree, my love and me, more for the lights and show than for any real special reason typical to the time of year. It's always the same old tree my family has had as I was growing up and it's still as warped and outdated a fake as ever. It's always been nice to return home on the holidays as all the family i'm closest to tend to show -- weather and time permitting -- on and off during this last month of the year. Cousins and distant relatives I think of as closer to Aunts and Uncles; Sisters and Brothers; than distant family mix with the rest of us as my grandmother prepares coffee for most of them whom arrive and leave in the early mornings, leaving me and her to sit and talk with her infinite wisdom about old history and the little things as we often always did in these events of family coming and going. The only thing better than these mornings spent saying hello and good-bye to dear family were the cold mornings were i'd wake up and find the most beautiful woman in the world wrapped tightly in my arms for warmth of the most comfortable kind. We'd spend the days wandering around aimlessly, watching the ever growing changes to town as the month came closer to the end, or just picking snowball fights with one another as it always snowed heavily at least once before the New Year. No matter what we did, it was worth it so long as she laughed in the way that made her cool sapphire eyes shine and the sly grin that always made my heart skip a beat. Despite my best efforts though, I always have competition in that with my grandfather as he always had a way of getting to everyone's humour despite their best efforts to stay solemn. I suppose I can't fault him for getting her or everyone else to smile though -- seeing as he's always been my mentor and like a father; I learned from the best. Besides, when all else failed I had my old mutt buddy to rest my feet on like a foot pillow -- so long as I scratched his back with my heel for him -- while I humbly sat back and let the old man work his magick on the captive audience. This year was especially good as we had my closest relatives -- my "Aunt" and my two "Sisters", as well as my Brother and Sister which I haven't seen in years -- visited again a few days before Christmas Eve and we all had the distinct privilege to enjoy my mothers talent with creating various treats which serve her small business well. No matter the occasion, it's always good to see them.

Every year, like tradition, I prepare my own home for guests on Christmas Eve. No matter what year it is, every year the snow always falls silent and steady to the soothing music which at times threatens to lull me into a trance as I watch the snowfalls. So far the theme always remains the same as well, but I imagine that is what the guests depend on now: that little sense of constant familiarity in their holiday seasons. It usually takes a bit of effort to tidy-up the place as things sometimes seem to end up in the most unexplainable places and I always seem to have a bad habit of leaving these tasks to the last minute. I set a place for everyone, small a number as they may be, at the counter of the kitchen island which has always functioned more like a bar or table than anything else. Dinner has always consisted of some combination of roasted meats; cheeses; breads; apples; some manner of fruit i've never been able to figure out; carrots; and cucumber -- the latter of which has never really been a favorite to me personally. In my own little tradition though we've always started with the treats with each plate set and ready for the guests before they arrive, and always the same combination of Christmas tree shaped cookies; luscious red velvet chocolate cake and a smooth, full-bodied ornament goblet of steaming mulled wine. When dinner is finished the conversations always carry into the living room of the home where the fire has been sitting in wait to warm us and the sounds of holiday standards -- some performed in not-so-standard ways -- create a pleasant background to the soothing, soft lights of the Christmas tree nearby which holds presents for everyone there. Conversations come and go; some wander the small study and the rest of the house as others wander the porches and yards in the snowfalls -- some even beginning snowball fights. At midnight -- or, actually, well past -- the evening always comes to an unavoidable end and we say good-bye for one more year's time until we do the same all over again next year.

Though being with the family and friends closest to me has always been vital to my holiday, nothing has ever been so vital to my own well being than the same scene which plays out every year. In the late evening I always find myself returning to the soft lights of the tree where I always find her, gazing over them with a subtle awe in their comfort as Steve Cole's 'Devotion' plays in the background. I stand silently in the doorway, watching her with my own awe in her daze and think to myself how beautiful she always is. I notice the little things about her which have changed since the first time we met: how she cut her long mane of auburn to a more tomboyishly cute bob for some odd reason; or how she changed her style over time from casual blue jeans and tees and jackets to more khaki cargos and long-sleeved shirts with burgundy turtleneck sweaters. No matter the change when I see her in the soft glow of the lights I always find myself in my own quiet little awe until she finally turns her head to notice me in the background from the corner of her steely sapphire eyes. She turns to watch me as I approach her and I make the comment of another year coming and going, to which her cold eyes soften at glance to my own and my heart melts as always. I brush the locks of her hair from her cheek softly while our eyes lock and a lifetime of expressions, wishes and hopes come through without a single word. In spite of the silent communication I try to gather the strength to wish her a merry Christmas and tell her I love her -- something not often said and which always makes me tense slightly, not from unease but from the sheer, overwhelmingly potent effect those words have upon us when I say them to her. She places her hand to my mouth to silence me as she's always done; the years together have taught us that words are a poor substitute to what is made obvious each day we have been together since the very beginning. Though there is still the New Year and the entire holiday season for us to look to -- it is always this one act, played again every year, which defines the very heart of the holiday to me. Without this moment, the very spirit is lost to me. It is this which I long for most and it is this which always brings a beautiful end to another beautiful holiday.

It is this -- which leaves me complete.


This is my holiday....

....This is my Illusion....

....This is what should be real....




"Tradition is the illusion of permanence."
-- Woody Allen

"So much of this world is based on illusion, temporariness, and disposability that I think it's essential that our closest relationships reflect what is real."
-- Gillian Anderson

"The illusion which exalts us is dearer to us than ten-thousand truths."
-- Aleksandr Pushkin
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
« Previous Topic · Wordgrove Archives · Next Topic »
Add Reply

Theme created by Lokyr of the ZetaBoard Theme Zone.