Merry Christmas To My Bane
I couldn’t sleep at all. It’s half past three in the morning and I’m thinking of things I want to say to you for Christmas’ sake.
The unusual hour, the early morning cold, a warm blanket draped over me, I thought about how warm has become cold without even a hint of change. The darkness that probed even the tiniest crevices of my room wouldn’t leave until the sun would reveal itself once again as if it was its duty to serve our needs for light and heat. The pitch black seemed to make everything stretch to infinity, a starless universe deprived of even the tiniest spark of light and hope.
Light and hope. It suddenly crossed my mind like lightning would touch a tree. I used to look at something that reminded me that someone up there stood wide awake always watching, guarding me in the deepest and darkest of nights. I was a mere child, not more than 7, when my mother gave it to me. It was a gift of sorts and I liked it not because of the contract that bound me to my religion but simply because it glowed in the dark. Well technically it absorbed light but it’s sweeter to think it did glow by itself.
It was a plain luminescent rosary but I always thought of it as God’s little barrier against the evils that I couldn’t see or hear when I’m asleep. I’d cup my palms over it and peek inside just to see how beautiful it illuminated itself and made the blackness seemed alright. I used to bring it with me every night and hang it somewhere I can easily see while I lie in bed. It was so I can have a good look at its light which somehow kept me from fearing the dark.
Time passed by so fast. My faith in Christianity dwindled, my beliefs I found disturbingly too good to be true, religion was slowly becoming just a subject to pass in school, and soon what used to put me in awe had somehow found its way inside a little tin box amongst the other things I wondered why I still kept.
Needless to say, I have no use for this rosary anymore. I still fear the dark but only because it dimmed my sense of sight, played with my fears, and nothing else. It even dawned on me that I didn’t even use this rosary for its true purpose; I just stared at it.
It isn’t much but I figured it would be better off with someone who keeps the faith alive. But why you? Why break my silence now? Truth be told I just thought it would make a nice gift and nothing more. During the dark ages, a gift of a holy item meant a gift of peace and prayer; a gift of the faith often meant a blessing for the believer, a little something to give that person a place in their version of heaven. I want to use that now. I’m terribly old fashioned and I prefer letters to speak for me. If not for my penmanship I would’ve used a pen. You know I would.
I want you to know that you’re quite dear to me. I bet you either think I moved on or hate you but I haven’t and I don’t. I wish I had and did but I never could. But I guess you did and still do. ‘Cause each time I reach out, there’s nothing there for me to reach out to.
But it’s Christmas and the last time I checked, it wasn’t about Kris Kringle, a fat pay check, or some dumb fruitcake that went from one owner to the other. And it wasn’t solely based a child’s birth as much as it was about the gifts that were given on that one silent night. With that, it’s a season to be kind hearted amongst other things, to be giving without thinking so much of the return. It’s amazing how a little kid born in some filthy stable among the dirtiest of farm animals would still have his birthday celebrated some two thousand years or so in the future.
Tracey, I haven’t written your name for so long. My hand trembled when it felt the familiarity of the word as it traced along each line of each letter.
There are a multitude of things I wanted to ask and tell you. But my thoughts became achingly similar to my rosary: I just kept it somewhere, hidden, and was never used. Sometimes, though, I’d look at it and it would radiate a faint glow telling me to use it, to open the little plastic case and touch its beads but I never did.
It felt amazing, the days where you were happy to see me or at least not so sad or awkward or both. I remember a faint smile and nothing more. And nothing ever followed. Quoting Buddy Wakefield, “I ate earplugs with my throat hoping they’d get lodged deep enough inside the empty spots that I wouldn’t have to hear you leaving.”
Life is the tree and I’m but a leaf and you’re the Earth. And as time passed and how gravity just works, I fell for you. It felt natural, almost by instinct. But not all things in nature were meant to last. And I couldn’t believe it. But now I do. I really do.
I kept hoping that maybe tomorrow something will happen and everything’s gonna fix itself. I kept waiting, waiting, waiting. But it seems to never come. Will it become the tomorrow that never came?
come. Will it become the tomorrow that never came?
I’ll share with you something even Lorraine doesn’t know. I’ve been thinking about having a change in careers. Being in Tech isn’t working for me and I feel that I’m not meant to be inside that building. With that I’ve decided to dive into marketing. I’ve only told Alex, Jute, and Pam about this and they were all very supportive. I told them it’s a good change since I’ve a background in Tech so I know half of how it all works and it will be a good opportunity to know the other side of the coin. It’s a crazy idea to begin with and maybe an excuse to escape the slow and cumbersome way the system works on Tech’s side. I could say for professional and personal reasons, maybe; a little of the former and more on the latter. But Pam told me to wait. And so I’m waiting. I just thought I should tell you. Perhaps I’ll never know the reason why I ever did. And I don’t mind.
To say it finally: You stunned the crowd when you wore that gown. You stunned me. It seemed simple yet elaborate. I guess a woman doesn’t need to put much effort into beauty if she’s already beautiful effortlessly. I could’ve said those words when your name was up but I held back. I didn’t want to give them the pleasure of a simple tease. I’ve grown sick of them, honestly. You could’ve murdered everyone in that little room with the look you got. I wanted to say that but I didn’t want the attention anymore. I didn’t want to ruin your night with my little games. Not in front of him, specially.
That’s about it. I don’t want to write this any longer than it already became. Merry Christmas and have a great year ender. I hope whatever you plan for next year comes out alright for you. Thank you for having me.
My best regards and wishes,
I got drunk last Friday night and came home at three o’clock in the morning, barely a Saturday morning at that. It’s amazing how a certain amount of alcohol injected through your veins suddenly make you feel the things you never wanted to feel again; to make you remember and think about past events like you once did but never could again. In short, I felt things. And I couldn’t help but wonder:
If I held out my hand to touch yours that Wednesday night, when they called for your name, would you have held out yours to touch mine too?