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mood |
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 lonely |
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music |
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Allison Kraus - Maybe |
] |
A year can bring about change, or utter stalemate. Finding herself firmly entrenched in a comfortable rut, it was strange for Emmy to go through the same motions as the year before. She decorated the house; she had kept all of her mother’s old things, and put them up the year before. Aidan had taken them down and put them away long before she had returned home from her brief sojourn in search of a little personal truth, but she had found them easily, clearly labeled and neatly stacked in the attic.
That was Aidan. Ever the handyman. He had even taken a moment to replace a few dead lights and repair broken ornaments before storing them for her. Emmy spent the day unpacking and placing everything where it should be.
She felt a bit strange continuing the tradition, after so many years. Her mother hadn’t been all too religious after her father had died. It had been a perfunctory secular celebration in her house, which made it all the easier for her to keep it up after discovering how much more existed in the world in the way of spirituality. Christmas was just Christmas; it was trees and lights and cookies and presents, and that was all that mattered to her. And so she decorated.
A Christmas tree – plastic, of course, as a real tree in Nevada didn’t seem to be the best idea in the world - with ornaments and lights, garland strung along the bannisters and little ceramic Father Christmas figures and snowmen tucked everywhere. A stocking with her own name written in glitter hung beside another with Aidan’s, and even a smaller one for Sam. They didn’t live there anymore, but Emmy still thought of it as their house too. A few wrapped presents beneath the tree, each one addressed to a face long since seen in Emmy’s lonely house.
To Aidan, Love Em; a pair of mittens, in the same horrible olive green yarn his mother had used to make a sweater. It was a joke, mostly, but something she knew he would use when he went home to Chicago for a winter visit, out of pure gratitude if nothing else. It would make him smile.
For Will, Love Emmeline; a red scarf, useless in Searchlight, but the thought was supposed to count, wasn't it? It was her first success at crochet; Aidan’s mother had taught her the art over the phone, after she had mastered knitting.
For Sam, Love Emmy; a yellow sweater replete with purple mice in cowboy hats. The pattern had been very cute, though the color scheme had been less than perfect. Still, it would suit him. The desert nights could get cold, after all, and he did a fair amount of wandering. Besides, the animal needed a little humility – let him be embarrassed.
To Destiny, Love Em; a little sweater in a cheery shade of peacock blue, with stitching loose enough to be worn on a warm day but definitely requiring something beneath it. She couldn’t recall offhand if Destiny ever had a favorite color, but the bright blue did seem favorable to her complexion. The real question was whether she'd ever receive it.
There were others, of course. A pink dog sweater and matching booties for Gus, and a vest for Liam, little trinkets here and there for other friends and acquaintances in Searchlight. Other, more practical gifts as well. All wrapped prettily with red bows and silver paper, tucked on a quilted reindeer tree skirt beneath the plastic branches of her tree, waiting for their intended to come and pluck them out.
The house had felt lonely that day. She had hoped the bright and colorful holiday decorations would make it warmer, homier, but it had the reverse effect. The trappings of the season and the reminders of all the loved ones who seemed out of her reach gave a cold, hollow ache.
She had meant to put on Christmas music to lift her spirits, but somehow hadn’t gotten passed the melancholy voice of Allison Kraus, drifting off the album she had left in the player. Emmy sat unmoving, curled up on the corner of her couch, staring at the glittering tree lights until well after dark.
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