Saturday, August something 2010, I creeped on all of Saskatoon. I started like this.
Once upon a time, in a magical land far, far away, snow was falling sofltly outside onto the lamp-lit street, moonlight illuminating it just enough to give the snow that cheerful magical sparkle that makes it look like fairy dust. Everything was quiet and peaceful, and if there was ever a time to take a hand-in-hand moonlit walk with your lover, now was the time. But suddenly, the peacefulness was shattered by happy sounding voices pilling up on the street. The streetlights watched in fascinated horror as their bright-fullness was challenged by the lights, of not one, not two, not three, but FOUR snow encrusted vehicles screeching to a stop, laughter spilling through the tightly rolled-up windows. The perfect snow reared up in disgust as its beautiful whiteness was trampled by a stampede of boots running to the front door, itchy suit pants and beautiful Christmas dresses swishing around as the gleeful children rush by. For something at the door had captured the childrens interest.
A single small package was resting on the front steps. It was perfectly square, wrapped in plaid green and red Christmas paper, with hohoho's written in yellow thin bubble letters.It appeared to have no markings on it, and the children just stared at in it wonder; this Christmas package that had mysteriously come to them so late on Christmas Eve.
The oldest child parted through and picked it up. As she examined it, she thought of many things. Mostly, that this would probably be the last year that she would be with the children. She was at that akward age where you are neither child, nor adult, not quite a teenager, yet not quite a tween. If she had it her way, she would have followed in Peter Pan's footsteps, yet alas, Time, is one thing you can't turn back...
All the children crowded around her, the younger ones craning their necks and standing on their tippy-toes to get a better look. The adults were just now getting out of the cars, some expressing interest in the mysterious package, some still talking about the mass. Christmas Eve mass was always a wonderful hassle. People rushing around the house with five minutes to be ready, burning their hands on franticly curled hair, offering hurried bits of advice ( you have lipstick on your tooth ) and rounding up the ever-present group of boys, who, at the first possible moment, ripped off the tie and dug into the Christmas goodies, scolding mothers with crying babies running after them. After everyone was loaded into the cars, and all the whining was reduced to back-seat grumbling, they were off. Once arriving, the boys would hang their heads low as not to be seen in these ridiculous clothes, pulling at tight necks with chocolate covered hands and grumbling, girls frantically searching for friends and their Christmas dresses, smiling and waving and mouthing; "I love your dress", adults exchanges quick smiles and Christmas greetings as they hurry to find a pew. The priest greets everyone, smiling with the excitement of a young boy who has just found his grandma's hidden stash of mint candies. The children fidget in their seats, impatient for the mass to be over and for the present opening and delicious food eating to begin at home. A few stolen candy canes, Christmas cookies, and assorted chocolates are sneakly passed around from child to child, most of them hot and melted from being clenched in little fists for so long, careful to not let the watching eye of the mother catch them in their dirty act. After the mass is over, the parents always seem to take a lifetime to get moving, children tugging on their jackets and dresses, pleading to go home. The excitement of all those presents under the beautifully lit tree, sparkling with miss-matched Christmas decorations ( the best kind ) is just too much to bear. Now here they finally were, and yet another present has apperared on thier doorstep, enticing them to open it and discover the treausures inside.
to be cont.
- Meghan
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