Timeless Christmas
1/1
Liza dances in the white powder and strains her tongue to catch a frozen raindrop on the surface. Fat clouds with light gray underbellies loom above, covering up the bright setting sun. Up and down the street are houses ablaze with Christmas spirit, and she watches the twinkling lights in awe. A deep chuckle reaches her ears and she glances back towards her house.
Charlie stands with a shoulder propped against the doorframe, his stocking feet crossed at the ankles. A playful smile tugs at his lips, and his brown eyes sparkle. Curly black hair licks at the nape of his neck; he let it grow too long. In the yard his new wife plays happily in the snow, her laughter warming his heart in the way a heavy coat could never do. String lights flicker colors across his face, radiating from the gutters of their house, reflecting off the white snow.
“Come play,” Liza calls, falling freely into the snow.
“You’re mad, woman.” He replies with love tinting his words.
She sits up slowly from her fall into the fluffy cold bank, a snowball compact and ready in a mitten clad hand. Their dog Bentley peeks out between Charlie’s legs, whimpering slightly. Her husband is, however, slower to react. The snowball lands square on his chest and she laughs gleefully.
He brushes the freezing residue from his sweater, wincing at the cold. With an eyebrow cocked, he steps onto the icy front porch. Liza squeals in mock scare. Bentley dashes from the house, his small frame getting lost easily in the high snow. Eventually he erupts barking, and the couple laugh at their pup covered in snow.
Blue eyes sparkling with happiness, Liza scoops up Bentley and carries him to the house. Charlie shakes his head slowly before proceeding, shutting the door firmly behind them. Inside boxes clutter the kitchen and hallway, full of their belongings and Christmas cheer. While she towels off the dog, her newly beloved wanders into the living room.
Strong arms tucked beneath an afghan, Charlie awaits Liza’s company on the warm suede couch. A fire crackles slowly in the fireplace, and Christmas music floats softly from the stereo. A Christmas Story plays on the television. When Liza finally joins him, he smiles lazily up at her and opens his arms.
Snuggling beneath the warmth of the blanket, with Bentley snoozing beside the fire and lights twinkling from their Christmas tree, Liza can’t help but think how lucky she is. A mere two days ago she married Charlie, eager to start her life with him on the eve of the eve of Christmas. Now with two shiny packages wrapped tight beneath their tree and music caressing their ears, it’s hard to believe it’s a reality.
Charlie kisses the top of Liza’s head, marveling at the sheer beauty of this woman he claimed as his own. His love, his wife, his life. The dog snorts quietly, and his woman snuggles in closer. He wraps his arms tightly around her, a contented sig escaping his lips.
“I love you,” Liza whispers softly.
“And I, you.” He replies in a shaky whisper.
A vein riddled hand covers her own hand; the skin covered with dark age spots. She glances quickly back at her husband of forty years, chin trembling as she smiles. The fire roars in the fireplace, and presents are scattered beneath the evergreen tree. From the front door, their daughter calls out a happy “Merry Christmas,” and soon after grand children descend upon the place.
The couple smiles and revels in three generations of family. They watch in contentment as the children tear into their presents, and Bentley II waddles in to join the excitement.
“Merry Christmas, Charles.” She whispers
“Merry Christmas, Elizabeth.” He replies kissing her softly, holding mistletoe above their heads with his free hand.
Charlie stands with a shoulder propped against the doorframe, his stocking feet crossed at the ankles. A playful smile tugs at his lips, and his brown eyes sparkle. Curly black hair licks at the nape of his neck; he let it grow too long. In the yard his new wife plays happily in the snow, her laughter warming his heart in the way a heavy coat could never do. String lights flicker colors across his face, radiating from the gutters of their house, reflecting off the white snow.
“Come play,” Liza calls, falling freely into the snow.
“You’re mad, woman.” He replies with love tinting his words.
She sits up slowly from her fall into the fluffy cold bank, a snowball compact and ready in a mitten clad hand. Their dog Bentley peeks out between Charlie’s legs, whimpering slightly. Her husband is, however, slower to react. The snowball lands square on his chest and she laughs gleefully.
He brushes the freezing residue from his sweater, wincing at the cold. With an eyebrow cocked, he steps onto the icy front porch. Liza squeals in mock scare. Bentley dashes from the house, his small frame getting lost easily in the high snow. Eventually he erupts barking, and the couple laugh at their pup covered in snow.
Blue eyes sparkling with happiness, Liza scoops up Bentley and carries him to the house. Charlie shakes his head slowly before proceeding, shutting the door firmly behind them. Inside boxes clutter the kitchen and hallway, full of their belongings and Christmas cheer. While she towels off the dog, her newly beloved wanders into the living room.
Strong arms tucked beneath an afghan, Charlie awaits Liza’s company on the warm suede couch. A fire crackles slowly in the fireplace, and Christmas music floats softly from the stereo. A Christmas Story plays on the television. When Liza finally joins him, he smiles lazily up at her and opens his arms.
Snuggling beneath the warmth of the blanket, with Bentley snoozing beside the fire and lights twinkling from their Christmas tree, Liza can’t help but think how lucky she is. A mere two days ago she married Charlie, eager to start her life with him on the eve of the eve of Christmas. Now with two shiny packages wrapped tight beneath their tree and music caressing their ears, it’s hard to believe it’s a reality.
Charlie kisses the top of Liza’s head, marveling at the sheer beauty of this woman he claimed as his own. His love, his wife, his life. The dog snorts quietly, and his woman snuggles in closer. He wraps his arms tightly around her, a contented sig escaping his lips.
“I love you,” Liza whispers softly.
“And I, you.” He replies in a shaky whisper.
A vein riddled hand covers her own hand; the skin covered with dark age spots. She glances quickly back at her husband of forty years, chin trembling as she smiles. The fire roars in the fireplace, and presents are scattered beneath the evergreen tree. From the front door, their daughter calls out a happy “Merry Christmas,” and soon after grand children descend upon the place.
The couple smiles and revels in three generations of family. They watch in contentment as the children tear into their presents, and Bentley II waddles in to join the excitement.
“Merry Christmas, Charles.” She whispers
“Merry Christmas, Elizabeth.” He replies kissing her softly, holding mistletoe above their heads with his free hand.