i've missed this place, dearly. my computer's been in the shop, and i just got it back. but here we go, a little christmas-related prose. very stream of consciousness, and very abstract.
Rapid-fire shots you take at me with your eyes alone, one minute gone, the next minute blanketing me in confusion. Where have you gone, where are you going, what can I expect, in these last few minutes before the bells chime and the lights go out and I sit, sit, sit in utter despair because I can’t find the answer to the improbable (and you can’t find the truth in the impossible, and I can’t give up today)?
“I’m a bad girl,” she says, four years old and not a hint of innocence there. “Santa’s giving me coal for Christmas.”
“Not me,” I say proudly. “I’m a good girl.”
Neither of us are four years old....in fact, she’s fifteen, I’m seventeen, and I’m tired of pretending that there’s magic in this holiday. Sleigh bells, songs, and gifts are never enough.
There’s only one thing I want for Christmas, and I don’t believe in miracles, or in Santa, if I cannot have it, because I have sat here in despair for far too long, and I’ve yearned for this and dragged myself through the emotions of it for even longer.
Conversation continued: “I don’t believe in Santa Claus.”
And today I speak symbolically, and today there is sarcasm, and today I don’t think I’ve ever quite been able to fumble in the darkness so proudly. Your eyes genuflect and then spin in circles, landing on me as the words escape my lips. One last time.
“You DON’T?” (there’s sarcasm there, but it’s playful and it makes me tilt my head and smile. and why I love you, this is why)
“Okay, so now I guess you’re going to tell me that there’s no Easter Bunny, and no Tooth Fairy....and no leprechauns, and no fairies?”
As much as I wish there were, there aren’t, not in my world. There are tears in my eyes (I don’t understand this, either)
“No, there aren’t. None of that is real.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me also that love isn’t real.”
Between you and I, yes. It is real in my mind, real in my soul, real in the visions and the nights in your car, real in every square inch that stands between us now, and stands between us always. But it breaks my heart to admit that, even symbolically.
“Dave, nothing is real. Nothing. Not even love.”