The orange glow of the fire slowly coalesces with the red and green you've come to love over the years. You can hear the murmur of voices rounding the corners of hallways, the sounds fading and being reduced to a quiet sensation as you're able to perceive them; giving to the warmth of the fire. It seems all monotonous from here, the sounds of reminiscing becoming one with the sounds of catching up; pleasure in pain...two ends of the same string meeting at a midpoint. Of course, you wouldn't really know, as you're nothing to do with this conversation; it might as well be silent.
The cold is slowly leaving your hands as they sit, being heated gently by the dancing tongues of fire before you. You notice the windows are shut, locking out the biting winds of the winter night, quelling the shivering and algor that would have been. In the summer months before, you might have welcomed the cold; now, it's unquestionable that you'd want nothing more than to sit here, in the midst of this warmth--you're comfortable.
The heat slowly spreads, gently expands to the rest of you. You're alone here, with nothing but the familiar red and white embroidering the walls. Far enough away from the crowded conversation that's still rounding the corners of the house. Conversations of memories, some talk of what's to be done in the future, maybe plans for next year. Maybe now, you'd like to be a part of it...a lot tells you, however, that you would regret it.
The flames still flicker before your eyes, enticing you to stay. You've got memories of your own to ponder about--those of experiences, friendships, family...some that you know will never be again. The room is empty still, ironically synonymous with your recollection of these things of the past. You've come to associate the red and green hanging over the fireplace with joy and happiness, the kind that you might only get for such a short period of time...
It might do to leave now, to leave the fire and the colors, all the motifs of this joy behind for now and become a part of the bigger picture; you never know what might change from now until next year. It might well do to be a part of all of it.
After all, when you let the desire grow, it's all the more to be savored.
[SIZE="1"]
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A little early for a holiday story, but here it is. Happy holidays.
The cold is slowly leaving your hands as they sit, being heated gently by the dancing tongues of fire before you. You notice the windows are shut, locking out the biting winds of the winter night, quelling the shivering and algor that would have been. In the summer months before, you might have welcomed the cold; now, it's unquestionable that you'd want nothing more than to sit here, in the midst of this warmth--you're comfortable.
The heat slowly spreads, gently expands to the rest of you. You're alone here, with nothing but the familiar red and white embroidering the walls. Far enough away from the crowded conversation that's still rounding the corners of the house. Conversations of memories, some talk of what's to be done in the future, maybe plans for next year. Maybe now, you'd like to be a part of it...a lot tells you, however, that you would regret it.
The flames still flicker before your eyes, enticing you to stay. You've got memories of your own to ponder about--those of experiences, friendships, family...some that you know will never be again. The room is empty still, ironically synonymous with your recollection of these things of the past. You've come to associate the red and green hanging over the fireplace with joy and happiness, the kind that you might only get for such a short period of time...
It might do to leave now, to leave the fire and the colors, all the motifs of this joy behind for now and become a part of the bigger picture; you never know what might change from now until next year. It might well do to be a part of all of it.
After all, when you let the desire grow, it's all the more to be savored.
[SIZE="1"]
AFDS
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A little early for a holiday story, but here it is. Happy holidays.
