I like seeing premature Christmas decorations

I don’t get presents on Christmas. It’s never been a thing. Boxing day is my shopping day – the only day where corporate dream come to fruition.

It’s not about the presents, though. “Christmas” isn’t a defined day for me. It’s more of an idea – more of a concept than anything else. It’s subdued, yet vibrant in its own right. To me, Christmas time is the time of the year when I smile the most.

When I start to hear Mariah Carey being played on the radio, I can’t help but grin. I can’t help but feel the “festive cheer.” I can’t help but be hopelessly drawn to the sound of the classic tunes of the 80s. I can’t help but be hypnotized. I start to drift. I start to think about white Christmases. I think about the rosy complexion on my cheeks. I think about how I can see my breath in the air, and how I can start calling the weather “a bit nippy” again.

I cast off the shell of “Summer.” I embrace the cold. I look up at the skies now and then, just to see if something might be falling. The first snow. A sign of temperatures to come. More jackets. Warmer showers. Hotter showers. Sniffling. Cold fingers, and a desire to move even less. An endless train of ideas; an endless source of inspiration.

The cold. The absence of the sun, and the loving embrace of Winter. The passage of time, and the snowflakes floating before my eyes. A winter wonderland.

Humidity brushes the window. I rub my eyes. Everything is white. The field is white. The cars are white. My breath is white. My smile is red.

A score of Christmas melodies ring around in my head. I look at the trees, following the branches and admiring the blanket of snow over them. The road is still freshly blanketed. Salt hasn’t gotten in the way yet. I can’t take my eyes off of the scene. If it were like this every day, I’d be able to die happy much sooner.

School passes. I get home. Then I get in the car. We’re off to somewhere further away, and daylight fades as we drive. The hot air from the vents feels nice. Feels soft. Like you can touch the air.

Actually, you’re probably already touching the air. But let’s not be pedantic.

We pass by some houses. Christmas lights. Red, green, blue, orange, yellow – anything you can think of. Reindeers on rooftops, ornament toppers on treetops – the dream lives on in these homes. The spirit is still alive, I think to myself.

Mariah Carey keeps singing. I turn up the volume a little higher. It’s been the 3rd time today – maybe even this hour – but I’m not tired of it yet. As I stare out the side window, a snowflake lands onto it. Mariah Carey’s hitting the high note. The warm air gets a little warmer, but my cheeks stay frozen. I can see my smile in the reflection.

I look up at the sky. More snowflakes than I can count, all falling towards me. Stars can’t be replaced, but snowflakes do a damn good job.

I take a deep breath, and sigh. I wish this moment would last forever.


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