A heartwarming story about love in Seattle. Space Needle trips, and new experiences, the meaning of Christmas comes closer.

 

I kiss the sky with my tounge. Each snowflake melts in meditation. Snowflakes fall upon the tip of my nose like fairies dancing in the moonlight. What is the meaning of Christmas? I ask the snowflakes in thought. The answer is held in the fragile nature of each drop; a porcelin play of marshmellows in the sky. Tickeling my cheecks, they send me their soft winter kiss. Usual pace of roaring engines and hot crossants, tonight this street only speaks in silence. Spreading out my arms, I just let the snow seep into my body. Head to the sky, I close my eyes, and for the first time all year, I just feel. My watch buzzes, 2am, as my apartment window calls for me. Sleep has no place for me tonight, for the thoughts of freedom are far more rejuvinating than the dreams of my past.

 

Looking up towards the 4th floor of my apartment, the grey cemented building sticks out in the snow oasis. With the brown paneling and brick mixed edges, each balcony sits in the snow. A painting of pure freedom shows my window above. Even the way this building stands in strength, with a small fireplace shining against the window, as the old neighbor couple get ready for their winter nap. For years they have done almost everything together; daily walk at 9am, reading books in the park, side by side, smells of delicious new recipies always fuming into my room, and most importantly, the glisten still shone in their eyes. I watched their life-long love play out in the door right next to me. Each day, their faces became more like eachother, holding in the emotion of true love. Seeing my window-sill, with Jack, my fat orange cat resting behind the glass, it brings me to the spirits of times before. Looking up, snowflakes fill my glasses, portraying a scene from my memory.

“I have never met someone like you”, he says throwing his hat in there air. With excitement glistening in his eyes, “You just have something that other’s don’t”, “That’s called class, my dear”, I say with a sarcastic wink, making him blush pink against the white walkway. Walking hand in hand through the park, a winter wounderland has been made just for us. The passerby’s seem warmed by our innocent happieness. His smile brighteneing to a crisp, “Where should we go next?” I look at him puzzlingly, with my finger on my chin. “Were going to the place we said we would all year long”, I say with a secretive smile. “Where is that?” He looks intrigued. I purk my lips, “Just you wait”.

The Space Needle shines bright for the direction of the dawning night. I point up, “That, that is where we are going”. “The Space Needle?” His face is in shock, “I’m not dressed!” He pulls on his SeaHawks T-shirt, and baggy jeans. “They won’t let us in!” “Oh, Pish”. I wave my hands at him, “It’s Christmas! Anything is possible”. We rush up the stairs and into the elevator. Inside, women in cocktail gounds and men in black ties stand together in their cologne. Looking at our reflection, me and Paul stand in our sweats, with hair wetted from the snow. The others stood in their night attire with straightness in their back, longness in their face, and seriousness in their heart. Me and Paul stood there smiling at eachother, as we shook our hands in excitement. “I’ve only got enough for one appetizer for us to share, that resturaunt is expensive”. I take him by the shoulders, “Listen to me Paul, we will get our cocktails” I shook his shoulders, “Anything is possible”. As the elevator door dinged open, the others walked out in their penguin silence. Me and Paul came booming in our laughter and awaiting the new adventure.

“Welcome to the Space Needle”, booms a man in a black suit, and writing pad. I will be your server tonight, fallow me. He squeaks in his expensive black loafers, as we are lead to our table. Around us, the others watch as I sway in my winter coat, and converse beated with dirt. Candles are lighted, dimming the room to a calm. “Here is your table”, the waiter seats us near the window. Handing us a menu packed with pages of meals, he says “I hope you will enjoy your night. Let me know if you have any questions”. Smiling, he squeaks away in his loafers while Paul pulls at his string hoodie.  Paul’s eyes light up against the candle light, he whipsers, “I can’t believe we are actually here! We have been talking about it all year, and we just never did it. I also can’t believe they let us in like this!”. I wave the menu at Paul, “I told you, at SkyCity Resturaunt, anything is possible at Christmas”. The new window pane held us high above the entire city. Street lights, buisness windows, and the water reflected bright towards us. Pauls nose is stuffed into the menu, “Look at this…and this…and oh my god…this! No no no no no, we need a dessert.” He licks his lips at me, “Mmmmmm….dessert”. “I know!” I exclaim, “Here!” I point to a menu item on the page, “Tarimisu!” Paul’s mouth gapes open, “How did you know? Tarimisu is my favorite”. As we ordered, time seemed to stand here in this garden of lights.

We wait, talking about our life and getting to know eachother. It seems no matter how long we have known eachother, we always find something new to talk about. Pauls eyes widen, “Don’t look now, but our dessert is coming”. I start to turn my head, as he interjects-“I said don’t look!” I smile back at him, “It has to be a suprise”. He holds his hands together in anticipation. Squeaky shoes arrive behind me, “And here is your dessert”. The waiter puts down a beautiful slice of tarimisu, filled with cream drippings, seduced with strawberries, and decorated with the carmael lines of desire. Two spoons waitied for our feeding frenzy. 

Taking a bite, the cream silks Pauls tounge, “Oh God…Oh God…Oh God” Paul exclaims orgasmic taste. “Paul, will you hush. People are going to think something else is going on here”, I say with a kick to his foot. Licking the tarimisu on his tounge, he says, “Oh, it will happen…soon…”. We laugh and talk in our night’s darkening show of the city. Snow continues to fall on the window-pane as the piano starts to play. “Hey, Katie, what are we going to do about those drinks? They were pretty expensive”. “Just you wait”, I said. “Keep eating your cake”. I sat there non-chalantly, whistling a tune, watching the other customers finish their meal.

As the night was fading on, a beautiful couple stood up from their chairs. “You’re not going to finish that?” A man said to his partner, and asian woman in a long grey silk dress, “I think I’ve had enough drinks for tonight”. The woman leans on the mans chest, with her black eyeliner straight at the sides of her eyes, and long black hair cascading down her pale back. Many untouched champagne glasses sit bubbling on the table. The man slicks his hair back, and straightening his tie up to his chizzled chin. He takes the woman by the arm, and her heels clack down the hall, dissapearing around the corner.

“Paul, now is the time. Take watch for me”. I sneakily get out of my chair. “What?” Paul looks nervous, “Keep watch? What are you doing?” I sneak away, walking down the hall. Just looking out the windows, minding my own buisness, the reflection of my black hair sways in a mess in the window. Looking around, I watch the waitors turn the corner. Dissapearing, I am now at the table where the couple sat before. Their poor, lonely champagne classes sat at the table, with half a bottle still full. While no one was watching I snatched up the bottle and glasses and made my way back to the table. “Merry Christmas, Paul”. With a clink the champagne glasses sat delicately on the table.

“What the hell?” Paul says, “Where did you get that?” I look at him while pouring a glass, “I didn’t want those beautiful glasses to go to waste. I was doing a service to the community by borrowing it”. “Yeah, and like we will ever be able to give it back, I don’t know if that’s called borrowing”. “You know what Paul, just enjoy this life while it still lasts. We sat giggling at our champagne, and letting this Christmas memory stick in our minds.

Behind Paul, I see a couple that looks so familiar. A small Norwegian lady sits in a beautiful red dress, with wrinkles on her arms. Across from her, a man, about the same age, with grey in his hair. I smile in amazement at the life they have lived. Giving a single wave, I realize I know that face. The face that made lasagna filled with chocolate sauce, and who played old sonatas while swaying in the window, and telling me of her new novels. It was the next door neighbor. I watch as they sit in their romantic display. “Kathryn, I can’t believe you brought me here. After all these years”. “Phillip, it was the first place we went, and I want us to always remember our youth. Me and you are always going to be young at heart, because we have eachother”. Margery takes the mans hand as he smiles. Her eyes meet mine, and I realize the meaning of Christmas. It isen’t about what you wear, or how much money you have, but it is the people that make it worth while. Finding new adventures, and connecting to others is the most special memory you could make. Forever, I will remember this couple on this snowy Christmas day. Me and Paul push the elevator button down to floor one. “You know what Paul”, I hold his hand. “What’s that?” He looks around seeing only us in the elevator. “I really think I know what Christmas is about.” “And what’s that?”. “It’s about just being with great people like you. Even though we don’t have alot, we are happy. We make these times good by just being together.” Paul smiles as we descend down the elevator. Walking out onto the quiet street, we put our heads to the sky, and kiss the snowflakes as they drop on this beautiful Christmas night.

 

A Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Good Night!

 

Photo Credit

4 Replies to “Christmas Time Is Near…”

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