Photo from Amboise Daily Photo
No snow had fallen. There would be no white Christmas this year. All that had fallen from the sky had been sporadic showers that left the ground wet and the pavement oily and icy at nights when the temperature dropped enough. A gray Christmas, held at bay only by street decorations, twinkling lights on rooflines, and decorated trees on display in the front windows of small, dreary houses along the streets. Constant, cold wind blew past swaying power lines, the twinkling lights, the leafless trees in tiny front yards, and through patched or aged windows. A small sedan idled in a nearby driveway, gray smoke coughing from a rusted tail pipe, the bells of Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s “Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/31” coming through windows rolled tight.
As the drums and harmonized guitar
began to roar, the bells in the song vanished, replaced by glory bells from the
church tower. On the house one down from here, no lights twinkled on the roofline,
no decorations hung from hooks, no decorated tree welcomed from the front
window. Inside, a small, fake green wreath hung from a wall above the sofa. On
the sofa, a man was poised with his shoulders and hips on the cushion, his legs
outstretched, and his feet flat on the floor. One arm was draped on the sofa
arm, the other splayed out next to him. Opposite the sofa, a wall-mounted
television played the end of a Rankin-Bass special in silence. The reclining
man turned his head, looking from the television to a general “up” direction. The
church bells continued to ring. He counted nine before the silence returned. He
looked back at the screen, squirmed himself into an upright position, and
knocked over one of the amber beer bottles on the side table next to him while
searching for the remote control.
The screen went black. He dropped
the remote on the sofa and stood. He grabbed his coat, hat, and gloves, considered
wrapping his red-and-white scarf around his neck, and decided it was too festive.
“Welp,” he told the void hiding in the corner as he walked past it toward the door. “Time to get merry."
