Waltzing into Christmas

It was Christmas Eve... and the night was both electric and still...anticipation and excitement and the promise of love everlasting almost palpable things in the icy air.

We sat silently as light...from moonlight smiling in through the great window...from the dancing glow of the blazing fireplace...from the gentle twinkling of festive lights on the stately Christmas tree in the corner...wrapped itself softly around us.

My eyes met hers and, yet again, words were not mine to adequately command. But in an exhilarating, terrifying instant we exchanged volumes that no mere talking could ever do justice to.

I took a deep breath and rose to my feet. I held out my hand (which seemed suddenly too big...too clumsy and too rough to be offered to one as fine and delicate as she) and she took it. Her hand was deliciously soft and warm, strong and fragile and humid...and, once again, I felt my heart threatening to rapturously explode.

I pulled her to her feet and she snuggled close to me. She rested her head against my chest (I think she made a joke about my heart pounding almost as hard as hers but I'm not sure. All I can remember is that her hair smelled like wildflowers and that, at that moment, I loved the smell of wildflowers more than anything else in the whole wide world.)

It was Christmas Eve. It was, I imagined, the first moment of Forever.

I murmured something about sleigh bells and she laughed. From the stereo, the music swayed sensuously...that Nat Cole was smooth as butter...and we swayed together right along with it.

Soft in the moonlight...in the firelight...in the colorful twinkling of Christmas tree light...we danced a graceful, awkward, utterly wondrous waltz of Christmas love and passion.

In the distance, a grand old clock started announcing Midnight in deep, resonant tones. We stopped and looked out the great window onto the snow glowing golden in the moonlight.

As the clock struck for the twelfth time, she reached up on tiptoes and put her hands around my neck. I pulled her up and we kissed...gently, firmly, chastely and carnally...kissed as though we would never be in that time…or in that place…ever again.

It was Christmas Eve...but that was a very long time ago...

"Forever" didn't last quite as long as I though it was supposed to. We loved fiercely and intimately for a while...breaking down barriers and looking forward to thousands of tomorrows. But doubt and memory of heartache and rejection past crept in and we retreated into fear.
Barriers were reinforced. And she left me (or I left her...or we left each other...the story molds itself to fit the expectations and sensibilities of whomever it's being told to.)

And I stopped thinking about her...except when moonlight turned the snow to gold...except when jazz singers crooned honeyed songs of the season...except every other waking moment of my life.

Four Christmases passed and life went on. I pretended to give my heart to other dancers along the way but the deceptions were always laid bare (sooner or later) and I was sent on my way.

As a fifth Christmas drew near, I again went through the motions of preparing for the festivities. I was alone and clinging to the whispers of memory that refused to let go.

Two nights before Christmas, as though we were characters in some sappy old movie, we ran into each other on a snowy corner.

I held tight to my packages as we stood there chatting self-consciously in the chill night air. She held tight to the hand of the quiet, wary fellow she was with.

As the world began to crash in on me, I excused myself and bid them a jaunty "Merry Christmas" as I scurried away. I cursed myself for a fool all the way home and on into the next day.

That next day, I sat staring at the phone all morning. And then, apprehensive and wistful and hopeful, I dialed her old number. To my surprise and delight and terror, she answered. I pushed the boulder in my throat aside and spoke. She seemed genuinely pleased to hear from me. We spoke of old times...of waltzing in the Christmas moonlight...of love and fear and getting on with our lives.

We chatted amiably for a long while and then we wished each other a happy holiday. I said "I still love you" about three seconds after she had said goodbye and hung up.

It was Christmas Eve. And that night, I made a fire and drew back the drapes on the great window. I sipped buttered rum from an old mug and stared at the fire in the fireplace. The Christmas tree in the corner, a perfunctory concession to the sensibilities of visitors, remained dark.

At Quarter to Midnight, the doorbell chimed and, as though we were characters in some old movie, I knew who was calling at that late hour.

She smiled shyly and handed me a large, gift-wrapped box. I invited her in and took her coat. She warmed herself by the fire and then wandered over to the tree.

She plugged the tree's lights in and the twinkling light was conjoined with the moonlight and the firelight and we stood...she next to the tree, me by the great window...transfixed by memory.

Silently, she drifted over to the fireplace. I went over to her. We looked into each other's eyes and, yet again, words were a discipline we could not master at that moment.

She began to hum..."The Christmas Song"...and, tentatively, I pulled her closer.

The tune swelled softly in our heads and we began to sway...to dance...to waltz in the beguiling mingling of light and memory and love lingering still.

And when the great clock started to toll Midnight, we stopped and looked into each other's eyes...love and nostalgia and anger and regret and passion, a gamut of bittersweet sensations, passed between us.

As the clock chimed for a twelfth sonorous time, she put her hand over my heart...it was still beating almost as hers she said with an affectionate, grateful smile. We kissed...gently, firmly, passionately...kissed knowing that this time was not that time.

But it was close enough.

I drew her tight into my arms...she pressed closer to me...and we danced again. In the moonlight, we were dancing. We were waltzing...waltzing into Christmas...waltzing into whatever tomorrow might bring.

It was Christmas Eve...