The holidays are always a time for looking back over the year that’s been, and the years before, that were. We’re also huge Disney fans – making a point of incorporating it in so many ways over the years – from trips to movies to just being fans of the “Disney Way” of service, which has always been amazing.
I’m sitting here, a few moments alone, taking in the tree. Ornament by ornament, it’s amazing the things that run through our lives at different times. The smell of the tree pulls up smells of baking in my mind, and the sight of so many of the ornaments brings back the times when things slipped into place just in time around the holidays. And many times when they didn’t quite get there.
I remember the extraordinary late nights waiting for the world to relax so we could sprinkle a bit of our own magic around. The times when we were able to see extraordinary decorations put up for the holidays. The family times. The stolen us times when we hid away, late into THAT eve … ening and took time for us.
I’m laying under the tree, staring into the limbs, at the ornaments, day-dreaming, lost in the moment and you come up and lay next to me, taking it all in yourself. I wonder to myself if your memories are the same as mine – I start to say something and you put your finger on my lips, and just say “shhhhhh.”
Snuggling into my neck, I feel you inhale first, then kiss me there, softly at first. My neck, my shoulder, my ear…I’m completely lost in your touch and attention.
You kiss across my beard, running your fingers through it on the other side of my face as you gently pull my head in your direction and I see your smile. That smile. Your eyes, your look, that grin.
“Time to make some new memories for the holidays, don’t you think,” you ask, grinning. “Besides you’re so shiny,” you say, grabbing my cage, “so you fit right it with the ornaments of the season.”
You lean in, kiss me, softly, then nibbling at my lip, then pull my lip between your teeth and, at first gently, pull back. Grinning all the way.
Just before I start to get a bit past that edge, you hold – and hold my stare. Locking eyes with me and all time just seems to stop.