A Christmas Glimpse
There is something unexplainable within our mind, it dances from the corner of our eyes’ imagination, but when we turn, nothing is there. Or is it? It is different this time of year, the blurred emotional line that separates truth from childlike wonder. It happens to all of us when our age no longer matters and the inner 5-year-old tramples through our day-to-day life, making appearances with a flair.
It starts when the tree is brought to life with vivid color, breaking the grey scale of the outer world and enhancing the beauty of the snow through the living room window. Lights woven in and out, around the limbs, creating an intricate pattern of believable reason that each small branch is holding a star. The red garland, like a scarf draped around a black dress, enhances the tapering of the long figure, matching the skirt around the bottom.
It is during moments like these that she makes an appearance for me. Shiny globes of red, highlighting the empty spaces where the branches have grown apart from one another. It is the reflection in the darkened window when the winter moonlight lies on the top of the snow, creating just enough light to catch the edges of the trees. The Christmas tree glows in unfocused color against the window pane; it’s like a movie as the snow falls into focus.
I pause, hand resting on the limb of the softened needles, grasping the hook of the last bulb, as I turn my head, my eyes focus back on the ornament. If I were none the wiser, then my thought that I am inside the bulb, captured, and am now hanging on the tree for all to see and admire while the Christmas music cuts through the air, then it would be an absolute run on imagination stemming from my reflection on the curvature on the bulb, yet for that split second I believed it.
The ability of a childlike thought is creating nooks, the little places in our mind that we decide, enhance the world around us. Sometimes it is paintings or pictures that I find myself trying to jump into, but during this season, it is the little cottages that sit upon the coffee tables and shelves. An amalgamation of everything I love: old buildings, stained glass windows, an abundance of snow, horse carriages, cobblestones, candlelit light posts, and the children on the ice-skating rink. Another glimpse, as I pass by the coffee table in the hallway and am instantly dropped into a familiar world I knew since I was a kid.
I walk the sidewalks under the evening sky where the snow has fallen into the cracks of the cobblestone, my glove scraping along the building wall, watching as the snow falls away from my figure tips. Carriage wheels rumble against the streetways as the horse hooves patter, making a cupping sound as they prance by. The driver waves and tips his hat; he knows me and yells out, “I’ll see you at the evening Christmas party, Ms. Lorynn!”
The snow begins to fall more heavily, but it is not cold nor windy, which explains why the flame of the dutiful town lantern man, never blows out. “Nice walk this evening, Ms. Lorynn?” He says as he steps down from the peg in the pole.
My skates hang on my shoulder as I walk through the town's entryway bridge into the countryside towards the pond. The echo of more carriages rings through the tunnel as the sound of children laughing begins to break into my subconscious. It’s perfect, the pond, with the young girl spinning and jumping into tricks, showing off to the group of boys paused from their game of hockey. Their wooden sticks resting against their shoulders, their eyes fixed on the girl as she lifts her leg and leans forward, moving with grace.
Before I knew it, I was gliding along watching in the distance a group of teenagers sledding, and an older couple watching from a bench laughing and pocking each other in the ribs as if to say, “Remember when?” We all know each other, and we are happy that way.
As the evening ends, while I catch up with my friends I haven’t seen in a year, the Christmas party is full of dancing. Every woman’s dress is full and swishes with every movement, creating a lovely beat. Every man wore a flat hat and Sunday suspenders as they linked arms to any available girl, while we twisted and turned around each couple. I, for one, have my own date to this festive event; he is the one who waits for every year because he loves me, and he alone is the only one who knows how to twirl me correctly. As he lifts my arm and I begin to twirl, all the friendly faces begin to blur with every passing turn, the music rings out and begins to fade. I am back in my own world once again, staring at my little cottage town. Until next year, my friends, until I catch a glimpse, Merry Christmas!
This year, my dear readers, make sure you catch a glimpse during this season. You never know what he or she has in store for you. Merry Christmas!
