A LOVE LETER TO DECEMBER

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December walks in. 


Cloak billowing around her, she struts through the door, swinging it shut behind her and you swear to god, the world has never gone quiet like this before. A dark burgundy smile quirks up to greet you, midnight blue nails wave hello and the fairylight sparkle in her eyes is one you’ve always known. She smells like vanilla and feels like the warmth whiskey leaves behind. Her tinkling laughter trails goosebumps down your spine. And when she slams her mug down and roars, “Another!” you think to yourself, “My god, I’ve never met anyone quite like her.”


She sits at the bar counter with you, one leg atop the other, hands moving, hair swaying, eyes dancing, as she reminds you of the other Decembers. You laugh, you smile, you reminicsience and relive the stories together. You changed and she changed along with you, both inevitable and irreversible. She holds your hand and you smile at her. The smile only a rare few see and a choice few hold close. She folds you into her arms at midnight and you’re safe, you’re home, you’re there and you’re everywhere. All at once. And all together. She sways and you sway along with her. She sings and you croon in tune with her. Laughing into her shoulder, laughing along with a friend, you think to yourself, “I’ve made it. I’ve made it to another year’s end.”


You walk home together in a choreographed dance of stumbling, falling, tripping, and giggling. Every stair, every step along the road and up the staircase, an uphill battle of one foot over the other, much like the year but December is here. She holds you and holds you close with an arm around your shoulder. A comfort, a promise, an anchor. She twirls you around and finally dips you into your bed with a flourish. Everything is hazy, but she stands there in the centre of your room in absolute clarity. One second she’s there and the next she’s right beside you and the focus shifts, now her eyes are on nothing but you. 


Drunk, content, and heady on a high that is nothing but her, you lean in, just a little bit closer. 

“December”, you say, with a smile. “It’s always a pleasure.”


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