merry christmas

It is after midnight, Christmas Eve-cum-Christmas morning and sporadic fireworks light the sky, a celebration that is new to him. Five hours north, a sneak attack of winter wreaks havoc with holiday travel. Here, the wind gusts with a certain fervor, but does no more damage than toss about strings of Christmas lights that really needed, hindsight being what it is, to be secured a bit more carefully. Coffee brews in the kitchenette counter, behind him. The $9.99 WalMart clock, leaning securely against the wall, ticks and tocks far too loud, though he usually doesn’t hear it. He’s usually asleep, by now. In the old days, years ago, he’d use these dark, quiet hours to wrap gifts and lay them beneath the glowing Christmas tree. He has no tree, this year. First time, ever. Times change. Time changes. He gets all that. In fifteen minutes, he will leave to meet the flight that will reunite his children for the first time in more than a year. He pours himself a cup of coffee, sips it. It tastes better than he’d expected.