The festivities were in full commencement when I arrived—fashionably late—having spent a few hours at the school getting ready.
I didn’t plan on remaining for an extended period, just long enough to grab a bite to eat and then head out into the still-snowless evening, to enjoy the rest of my Christmas break.
The blast of warmth from the house was friendly against the chill lingering outside, and the lights of the tree near the center of the room lit up everything around it in a bravuran glow. It wasn’t long before I found myself lost amidst a dozen different conversations, while the smells of delicious foods wafted about the Christmassy air.
Some time later I found myself seated in the living room, looking at the tree and basking in the warmth of the moment.
The boy walked into the living room and sat in the rocking chair. Seeing the guitar lying next to the piano, he picked it up and asked if he could play me the piece that he’d performed for his recital recently.
As the strains of the Christmas music floated about the room it reminded me of a space in time almost two years ago, back when he’d taken his first guitar class from me in the after-school program.
I thought of how far he’d come since then.
The lights on the tree continued to twinkle. The aromas still permeated the sweet-smelling air. The sounds of Christmas still played on.
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