Hi Vicki!
Christmas story?
Silence.
The sound of it rings in my ears and deafens me.
It wraps around me like a stifling, invisible cloak.
It openly mocks me.
Clark in space?
Tonight is Christmas Eve. The one night of the year where I've always felt like the world holds its breath in collective anticipation.
Clark in Kansas?
The most peaceful night of the year, or so people say.
Lois?
. It was such a relief, not to hear Mom and Dad fighting with each other. It was a much needed break, to not have to step in and be a mother to Lucy.
Okay, Lois. Also, because her father is next door, giving his presents to the neighbor and her mother is passed out drunk on the bed?
I think it might have been the one night of the year where my coworkers actually appreciated me. After all, if I worked, it meant that some of the others could be home with their families.
We've done everything humanly possible to try and boost our chances of conceiving a child together, no matter how off-the-wall and unscientific it may have seemed.
PERRY: I swear, if they requisition a couch for the supply closet, I’ll send them on a mission to report on salmon smuggling in Anchorage.
Silence.
Blessed silence.
Music to my ears.
So, this is Clark, now?
For what feels like the first time tonight, I sit down on the couch, a fresh, hot cup of tea cradled in my hands, warming me before I can even take the first sip. My lower back pops as a hundred knots are released with the motion, bringing much needed relief.
No, a pregnant Lois one year later, after Clark finally made it to puberty.
I'm not sure. And I'm not sure that I want to know. For me, it is enough, just to bask in the silence and magic of this night. Because, as I've learned, it's all too fleeting and fragile a thing. And I intend to enjoy every moment of it.
Very nicely done!
Michael
