A Christmas Vignette by Jen 12/8/99 I. Waiting She goes to the window, and draws back The curtain with a trembling hand,  Waiting for him to come to her. It is Christmas. They should be together. But she is alone, lost in a coldness more painful Than the one that the wind sends whistling Past the windowpanes and under  The house's dark eves. She looks out at the frozen vista, past The jewel-like crown of snow and ice That kisses her windowsill and adorns the estate In elegant splendor; the day's beauty Means nothing without him there to Share its silent majesty with her. She looks toward the path that lies At the edge of the trees, toward the one  Place that holds the waning hope for  An answer to her  Prayer for acceptance, and sees footprints In the snow. Footprints along the path that will lead him to her. Footprints that echo the phantom steps he  Has unknowingly tread upon her heart. Breathless, she turns to the stairwell, poised, Ready to greet him as he enters, but not Knowing what to say, ready to Embrace him, but not knowing if  He will let her touch him. She listens for him, but the only sound She hears is the grandfather clock as it Gruffly chimes her fate, telling her  That she is to spend another Christmas  Alone. Defeated, she wishes that The cold of the winter storm would Drape its bitter white cloak around Her.... Numbness is her only peace, and so she Sits alone amidst the silent decorations and daydreams Of a Christmas that has never been... II. Watching He pauses in his sojourn and looks back, Back to the aristocratic house that Boldly stands against the horizon, the house That speaks to him with the voice Of the wind and snow; it is asking Him not to forget the past. He hears its plaintive call and it suddenly  Seems as if he's viewing his life From the inside of a crystal snowglobe, The fuzzy edges of unreality causing his Memories to return to him like treasured Christmas gifts. He watches as his family lives again in the Dusting of snow that blankets the earth, their Ephemeral resurrection created by the reflections of The sun in the ice that blankets the trees. They are together again at last, his mother and sister, father And uncle...the winter's night has turned to Day and has removed the veil between their vastly Different worlds; for a brief moment there is nothing but A place where death ceases to exist and Love binds all spirits together. For now there is but one Existence. But he cannot speak to them, for he doesn't share the  Voice of the wind. He cannot touch them for the warmth Of his hand would drive  The winter's snow away and all Would be a mere reflection of the past  In a glassy pool of water. Turning back to the path before him, he Reluctantly continues onward, leaving a piece Of his heart in the snow; it is the only Way he can say goodbye to them now, for Their worlds can never again merge into one. He walks without seeing, his world devoid of Beauty until he reaches the edge of the woods,  And sees her universe reflected in traces  Of golden light that illuminate the mansion with the Sunset's glory. Quietly he approaches the house, assumed rejection gnawing At him, making him feel as though he is walking Through hell-fire to find what he needs. He is afraid, but feels something (an angel's hand perhaps?) gently brush  His shoulder, and knowing that he is not alone gives him the Strength he needs to open the door and watch  The Christmas that is yet to be unfold before him. III. Wondering He steps across the Threshold, calling to her, his voice Harsh from the cold and the emotions that have Suddenly overwhelmed him. Surely she is there waiting for him! There is no  Other place the path can lead, no other  Branch in his unsteady course he can choose to take. She has to be there! He impatiently waits, listening to the  Agonizing tick of the clock, Wondering if she has given up on him, wondering If it is too late to retrieve his soul from the Clutches of darkness so that he may Give it to her; it is, after all, the only Christmas gift she Deserves. Suddenly, she appears in the hallway, a Vison of fire and ice, melded into the form of  A goddess, an inexplicable creature of Light sent To save him from himself, and for the First time he sees that His future is clear. His future lies with hers. They are part of the same lost soul, Waiting for salvation. Unable to speak, she moves toward him, Uncertain and afraid that she is Merely dreaming.  Only the winter's perfect silence can  Allow her to hear his heartbeat, and only the flickering Of the luminescent candles show her How the storm's dreaded coldness has become Her savior. They say nothing, for words Would only shatter like glass between them, and Their moment of peace would be lost  Forever; instead they embrace, letting The past slip away into the coming night. There in the hallway, the solitary wanderers are Welcomed home, and though they don't see it, a Star has been created for them by the Angels of their past, a star that shines upon the earth And sings with the voices of a thousand Rejoicing spirits as they discover Each other and the perfection of the timeless  Love that is the miracle of Christmas.