Grasping her mug tightly in her hand, she stares at the twinkling lights on the tree, suddenly overcome.
Inside, by the song of the kettle, waiting to dress her tree, she was able to forget—just for the moment—that Time had come and gone, taking her heart with him. But now, the sameness of the white lights on the green branches reminds her of Christmas gifts, and parties, and giggles, and love.
And that reminds her of then.
And them.
“You see,” she mutters, turning away and leaving the tree unattended, “it’s not change that’s difficult—but rather, consistency.”
Inside, by the song of the kettle, waiting to dress her tree, she was able to forget—just for the moment—that Time had come and gone, taking her heart with him. But now, the sameness of the white lights on the green branches reminds her of Christmas gifts, and parties, and giggles, and love.
And that reminds her of then.
And them.
“You see,” she mutters, turning away and leaving the tree unattended, “it’s not change that’s difficult—but rather, consistency.”
