Christmas Day

She didn’t have much to say; they mostly just sat there in silence as the snow fell around them. The Toyota tundra blared and pumped its heat as he sipped the coors light in his hand.

Maybe it was a simpler time; things didn’t seem as heavy. Nothing felt real, I suppose; the reality of who they were as people together meant nothing then. They were just chilling together; funny how such little words then can inspire them all now.

They slept right through to Christmas morning together in that truck. The trees were coated in white, and the morning sun showed all the details of the forest that were lost in the darkness.

She could’ve sat in that truck for an eternity as he slept in the seat beside her. It seems like in those days, she could so easily drown herself in a pretty view and forget about the world.

He’d spill his beer, and they’d scramble to clean it up, knowing her mom would kill them if she smelled the remnants of a coors light on her truck seats.

Too bad those days couldn’t last forever; just one Christmas ago, yet so much had changed between then and now. She’d have to just sit with the memory now, knowing he’s still there but knowing she shouldn’t.

Does she stay when they say, “But he wasn’t that bad”? They say life isn’t like the movies, but is it so wrong to want more? She will always want the most. So is it so wrong to want him to be the best?

She holds space, hoping they will turn out to be the person who’s always there in her life.