Sunday, January 16, 2022

Home for the Holidays

for Tessa & Nagwang

Rolling from the docks, stars like pixies twirling down, frosting cross the land, decking streets in white, heaping high, filling full crevasses of the needles of the firs.

We rolled into the Christmas night, adorned by strings of light in hues of blue, pink, yellow, red, magenta, green, and white, wrapt about the tottering Norfolk Pine. While sugar plum faeries drew forth gifts and glamour: golden spheres, silver skates, paper snowmen holding hands, origami cranes. Lady of the Ermine Cloak held high her candles as she stood upon the topmost branch, casting eyes toward the pastel star, hanging o'er Tchaikovsky's box of song.

Between our palms, a glass of spiced rosé. Oysters simmered in a broth of milk and butter. Wild rice and gravied beef; breadcrumb stuffing laced with sauteed shrooms and shallots, leaves of celery, Italian parsley; crimson cranberries sugar sauced with apples, tiny oranges, clove, vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamom.

Stockings summoned at the hearth stuffed by Santa full of Lindt and Toblerone, marzipan and Lotto, cat butts and a tangerine. We heaped up wrappings by the fire, donned 5 pairs of Darn Tough socks. Unwrapped Tibetan Atlas, mushroom log and DNA, polka-dot and kitty printed pantaloons, singing balls of Woodulisten, 7 beans, 2 shelf connectors, ponded lotus, frankincense & myrrh, guitar restrung, merino fashions. One intrepid quintuply packaged Moku Hoku.

One last walk among the ancients, Captain's quarters, salmon cannery, ranch upon the frosted Peace. Lounging in the velvet seats we pined with Charlie, waiting for some jilting ladies, dreaming dance of buns on forks. Farewell to Old Town, dressed in Christmas finest.

All the while, Northern whiteness deepened our cocoon, gracing acres round the lake, cataloging pathways of our tramping, as our boots crunched frosting formed of needle ice. The flurries drew us to the mountain, slurping drought of Tim's steeped tea, chains upon our tires, climbing twixt the drooping trees of Seuss. We bound our boots to boards and planks, then blindly slid through blizzard, cheek skin stung by swarms of Winter. Soft blankets of the slopes fluffed our glide, swallowed up our hoots and laughter. Dangling feet below the chair, we melted chocolates in our mouths, and floated up to wind-scraped summit, where racing flurries cloaked the sky. Then, nestling into tubes we slid into the evening, spinning hilariously. Huddled in the buried Lexus, we snacked and played umbrella games. Then crawling in a red parade, we inched back down to rain-washed miles of night. Paused in glimmering ghostly Ladysmith to grab an oily bag of golden arches.

Before the door, boughs of holly, boughs of fir, woven, wired, wound in wreath. Shovellings of snow heaped high, packed up into walls of white, topped up by one broad umbrella. After dark, we climbed into enchanted igloo, illuminated by 5 votive candles. Quaffed a mug of steaming chocolate, spiked with Irish Cream. Told the legend of a 5-legged tiger and a baby 5-legged yak.

Upon the eve of year's new dawn, we gathered, feasted, swaggered in some wood spoon fashions. Raised a cup of kindness high, to toast the promise, promise of a bright beginning. And toast the warmth of friendship burnished brightly by the years.