Intermission: Christmas, part 1.

Sunday. December 20, 2009.
Sam scratched at his beard, watching the sun slowly set from the roof of his house. As darkness fell, he cast a careful look around his neighborhood. All around him, lights of white and red and green flared into life. Long practice helped him to separate each set of lights from each other, and he counted, comparing them to the number of houses he knew stood in the neighborhood. His count was one off. There must have been some mistake, he had helped his neighbors to put up their lights himse- Sam looked down at his fists, clenched with worry. Clenched, that is, around an orange extension cord, and a green plug. He laughed nervously, making sure no one had seen him nearly lose it, and connected the wires. His own home flared bright white. Snowflake patterns and realistic icicles one could swear were dripping illuminated every tree, bush, and doorway on his home. The windows were lined with bright red lights, brighter than any on his street. Both his front and back yards featured animatronic, lighted reindeer. A wireframe sleigh, complete with a motorized, waving Santa was secured to his roof. Sam nodded, grinned, and headed inside.

Melissa was waiting at the kitchen table with Sebastian and three mugs of hot chocolate. One of them was unoccupied. Sam patted his son on the head and sat down, taking his time on the drink. For a while, the family sat in silence, and Sam very nearly forgot why he was so very worried today.

“I had to let your jacket out a little,” Melissa smiled at her husband, nodding towards the fur lined red coat resting on the couch. It was an old, old thing. It had been repaired and cleaned and let out and back in more times than Sam had had birthdays. Next to the couch sat a pair of heavy black boots. These were new and shiny. Sam nodded and stood, moving to pull the coat long over his shoulders and carefully secure the belt around his waist. A pair of thin leather gloves came next, then the boots. Sam, dressed and ready, moved back to the kitchen and hugged his wife, then his son. Something tangled in his hair and he glanced up to see Melissa fitting a small wreath into his hair. She gave him a thumbs up. Sebastian frowned as his father headed for the door, old enough at six to know his father was going nowhere good, but too young to know exactly why. For that matter, Sam was a bit young to know himself. He only knew that it simply had to be done.