Why December Is My Favorite Month

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Christmas, duh. Need I say more? But it’s not the presents. It’s the lights and music and weather and meditating on Christ’s sacrifice.

I like the anticipation of the new year. Next year is bound to be exciting and I hope to achieve some goals I plan on posting here soon.

I don’t have much time at the moment. I need to finally get of the internet and finish my presentation for tomorrow’s supply chain management class.

So I’ll leave you with a Christmas excerpt from The Resolution. The scene in itself is not too Christmasy, but it takes place at a Christmas party, so enjoy. And if you care, tell me what you think in the comments. Don’t forget to mention your favorite month either – with reasons!

Happy Holidays!

SCROLL DOWN FOR THE EXCERPT

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It doesn’t make sense. He loves me but wants to leave. Maybe he wants to take things very slowly; I still have two years of school left. Or Dad turned him down and he’s heartbroken and wants to leave. Probably not. There’d be no reason to be heartbroken over me. Dad probably told him about me and that I wouldn’t be a good catch.

“Irene, are you all right?” Paula eyes me suspiciously.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine.”

“You seem a little preoccupied this evening.”

“It’s been a crazy week,” I sigh. He was probably over me, and the one time a guy was even close to being interested in me is blown.

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, it’s just… I don’t know. Complicated.”

I don’t know if Paula took a hint but she leaves when David approaches.

“Here.” He hands me a warm punch and then leans against the kitchen counter, sipping from his own cup. “So do you want to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me all week?”

I sigh and he pulls himself up to sit on the counter. Despite my efforts, my eyes well with tears again. Was being in love always this awful?

“I don’t know.” I can only whisper without having to cry more. “Just being emotional I guess.” I hold my mouth shut for a minute. “And I… I was eavesdropping,” I blurt out “– that time you were talking with my dad.”

For a moment David is still and I am afraid he’ll be mad. I hold my breath.

“I thought as much. I’m sorry, Irene – ”

“No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry. It was horrible of me, I know.” I dare to look up at him. He is smiling.

“You look cute,” he says, flicking the pompom on my Santa hat. I smile anxiously and he says, “Well, I’d have liked to tell you in person – to your face. How I feel about you, I mean.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” He sets his mug down and exhales. After a minute of watching me, he creases his forehead and then reaches to smooth mine. “So, are you going to maybe tell me what’s going on inside your own sweet head?” It is only a brief touch, but my heart races and I laugh awkwardly, looking down at my drink again.

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