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[writersblocksstuff]

David

"David," Mom yelled at me rather courtly! What have I done now? It seems I am always being blamed for something. However, I cannot think of what that might be. Oh well, I will find out soon enough. Mom stormed into my room. I wasn't sure what I was in store for, but it must have been a doozy. She was rambling about something or another. But I, for my life, could not figure out what that might be. She was hysterical about something of hers that went missing. I got the impression that she thought I took it. Like I would take anything of hers... the nerve of her accusing me! After she finished her rant, I quickly explained that I did not know what she was on about and did not take anything of hers. She obviously did not believe me, as she was still in a huff. I tried to speak, but she interrupted me and told me I had better confess than complicate it. That I would be sorry if I did not hand it back! I stared at her blankly. Frankly, I was at a loss for words. How could I get her to see I did not know what she was talking about? How do I get her to understand that I could not take what she thought I had? I decided to remain silent. I decided I could not justify any query or accusation with a satisfying answer without getting further into a corner I could not escape. So, I sat there and stared like the idiot she thought I was. She continued her rant. The more she went on, the nastier it got! I had never heard such language before. I may not have understood the words, but their tones spoke volumes. The angrier she got, the more it hurt. I was at a loss for what to say or do. So, finally, I broke down and cried. I not only cried, I sobbed great gobs of grief. I wailed about being afraid... of being falsely accused and not knowing what to do. On I went for a few minutes until I could cry no more. She turned in to discuss. I did not know if she was discussing it with me or herself. It was hard to understand, for I was but a child. She left my sight. I knew not where, nor did I care. It was over. I curled up on my bed. There in my bed, I lay. I do not know for how long - as the sleepover took me. On awakening, I sat there tentatively listening. I could hear nothing. I crept out of bed and to the door. I could see the light out in the hall creeping through the crack on the floor part of the door. Slowly, I turned the knob of the door and pulled it slightly toward me. I cocked my ear to try to hear. But I could not make out anything. I got brave and pulled the door forward, stepping out gently into the hall. I made my way slowly to the top of the stairs and stopped. Again, I attempted to hear. Not hearing anything, I made my way quietly but slowly down the stairs. The living room was dimly lit, and I could not make out anything. I crept slowly to the entryway, and I could hear, ever so slightly, sobs of sadness. "Mom," I asked gingerly? There was nothing. Again, I asked, "Mom?" The slight sobs ceased. I stepped, ever so slightly, into the room. "Mom," I asked again? There was a pause... "Here," came a reply. I paused. As if sensing my hesitation, she said, "Don't worry, I won't hurt you," with arms open. I rushed to her open arms! "Mommy, I'm sorry. Please don't be angry with me," I pleaded. Looking sad and remorseful, she said, "Mommy's not angry with you." "And I am the one who should be sorry," she stated. "Mommy found the ring in the trash," she explained. "I am sorry I got upset with you," she said. She let out a cry. I took her hand. "I took out my issues on you," she continued. I should not have done that, and I apologize." "How I wish your father were still with us," she pleaded. I could think of nothing to say. Dad had died two years ago in the war. "I never meant to hurt you," she continued. "I will never act in rage again," she vowed. "I love you and always will," she stated. "I love you too, Mommy," I replied.

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Snow on Christmas Eve

Snow falls as it always does this time of year. It is pure: there is not a single imprint. The snow blankets everything, and it is all so serene.

     I like looking out the window and seeing the beauty of the untouched snow. It brings me back to simpler times—carefree days when I was young. Oh, how I wished to be the first one to go out, crumble the fresh snow, and draw snow angels on its surface. I loved sticking out my tongue and catching snowflakes as they fell. I loved those winter days, and I long for them again.

     Now that I am older, I still like to look out the window and watch the snowfall. I stand in the dark, overlooking the city Streets, and watch the snowfall through the light of the streetlamps. It makes me feel young again.

     “I could sit for hours and watch the sights on a night such as this,” I think, but catch something stirring in the corner of my eye.

     I turned to see my partner sleeping on the sofa. I walk over and gently tap my love’s shoulder. “Time to get up, dear, and go to bed,” I said.

     You grumble something inaudible. “Bed now,” I repeat, “A couch is no place to sleep when a comfy bed awaits.”

     I feel like a parent. You get up and head to bed like an obedient child. I smile as you tromp on by.

     I stay awake a little longer. I stare out the window again.

     The chill fills the air, and I wrap my robe a little tighter, but still, I stay.

     “Another Christmas Eve and another year gone by. Where has all the time gone? Why does time seem to traverse so slowly as a kid, but it speeds so quickly as an adult?” I shake my head and chuckle, “Life is strange, yet it is so wonderful. Now that I am older, I realize that life has so much potential.”

     The snowfall is slowing before I turn away from the window. The Christmas tree lights are all that illuminate the living room. I go to the lazy chair and sit. I am not tired - not yet, anyway. I want to stay up a while longer and look at the tree, so beautifully decorated. The decorations' layout shows the decorator's loving care and thoughtfulness. You put much effort into decorating it this year. “I must be sure to express my thanks at having such a lovely display,” I sigh.

     We have no children, which I sometimes regret. Christmas is for children, after all, or at least it is more enjoyable with their presence. No, it is just the two of us, and it is because of this fact that I view the meaning of Christmas differently from others.

     I do not buy into the commercialism of Christmas that marketers push on us. Christmas is more than just a collection of things.

     Christmas is about family and friends, and in that regard, I find myself truly blessed.

     I may not see my family often, and we may not be as close as we once were, but I know that they will always be there should I need them, and that is all that matters.

     My friends are my extended family. They are all dear to my heart. They have my back and tell me what I need to hear, when I need to hear it. They care for me, and I care for them. You will have to forgive me; I get melancholy this time of year.

     For Christmas, I like to keep things simple. I invited a few friends over, shared conversation and laughs, and had a meal. To me, having friends over is worth more than any gift could be. My friends are my treasure.

     When I was young it was different, I looked forward to the presents under the tree. On Christmas day, we would run down the stairs in our pajamas, wait for the others to join around the tree and I anxiously waited to open my gifts with the rest of my family. We would jestingly poke and prod each other while we wait for the adults to join us. Later we would all go to church and remember whose birth we celebrated this day. Then finally, we would sit at the table for a feast, those were joyous days and wonderful times.

     Tomorrow it will be just the two of us. The family is too far away, and some of our friends have moved away; some have died, and others have different plans.

     Although I personally love to have company, I am not upset.

     Dinner will be smaller but not less meaningful. I will have my love with me; that is all I need or require. I have prepped the stuffing, made cranberry sauce, and baked some biscuits. Come tomorrow, all I have to do is the turkey, some vegetables, and make the gravy. Later, we will sit around and listen to carols or watch a few Christmas specials. We will repeat the first Christmas spent alone together. Tomorrow, like then, will be a day to remember.

     The clock strikes twelve. It is Christmas Day. It does not feel any more special than any other day. I cannot imagine why there is so much commotion about it. I guess people get themselves hyped because society makes it so. As I said before, I do not go for that part of the holidays; thus, it is just a day like any other.

     I go into the kitchen and pour the last cup of decaf. I go back into the living room and sit in my chair. I sip the coffee and place it on the side table. I gaze out toward the window again, “It is Christmas time in the city, and it looks so pretty.”

     I suddenly grew very tired and felt somewhat achy. I lean my head against the chair and let out a gentle breath. “I will just rest here a bit,” I mumble, “then I will get up and go to bed.”

     I woke up to find myself playing outside. I am seven. It is Christmas day, and I am playing fetch with the dog. She is running to and fro. All the while, she pushes her muzzle through the snow. She could care less for the ball, and at this point, neither could I. The snow entertains her so. I laugh at her silliness. She barks in delight. In her delight, I take glee. “These are great times,” I think, “I wish I could live like this forever.”

     I am happy.

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Charlie

Charlie it is nice to see you again. It has been a long time since you were gone. I been meaning to call, but life got in the way. Time to reconnect and rediscover the friendship that was lost.

We were close when we were young. Then mom died and you left. Dad died the following year. You are my brother, so I forgive your absence.

You are home, and you are here. Ever welcomed and always dear. The door for you is always be opened. You have a place to relax and refresh From all the troubles life throws your way.

That is the way of things. I guess. You are here. I am grateful.

Your smile is contagious as always. When you laugh, you make me chuckle. Speaking with you here today. It is like you never left and kept away.

My brother, my friend. Please stay. Never leave again. This is my plea.

It is you; I love. Unconditionally cared for. You are family. You are my friend.