I think Heaven will be like a first kiss.”
Sarah Addison Allen
The party was in full swing
With family and friends
Mingling and laughing
As they told stories
Of each other and
Christmases past;
It was not only our annual
Christmas Eve gathering,
But also a celebration of
Grandpa and Grandma's
Fifty-third wedding anniversary.
Do you remember that night?
We had known each other
All our lives and
Had continually danced around
Our feelings for each other,
Afraid of ruining
A wonderfully close
Friendship.
But that night
While we talked
And reminisced
We found ourselves
Under some mistletoe
Hanging from
The door frame,
Bound by a
Red velvet ribbon.
We looked at one another
And smiled
As we bowed to tradition
And mutual desire
And shared our first kiss,
Tender and warm,
Beneath the mistletoe.
What a lovely thought that doesn't come to pass very often. In all my years at all those holiday festivities where there was mistletoe, I never had an opportunity to steal a kiss like that.
I didn't know until I moved here to Texas, that mistletoe, aside from cactus and live oak, was about the only green decoration during winter that could replace holly with white berries instead of red. I would have to look up where that kissing tradition came from. But in Wisconsin where no mistletoe grew, you could buy in the five and dime stores in small packages.
I recall when driving to McAllen from Houston you could stop by a tree along the highway, climb it and get a nice bunch of mistletoe. I saw harvesters once shooting it out of trees with a 22 rifle so they didn't have to climb.
I used to love those Christmas and New Years Eve's parties with the rare chance to kiss and hug someone you'd never normally dare to. I wonder how many first romances began because of that. Well done Rebecca.
Fee
A search for the ghost of a chorus girl chorine haunting a costume designer’s Manhattan apartment leads to an encounter with an eccentric, mischievous witch with the ability to send folks back through time…in this case, the 1919 Ziegfeld Follies.
A young widow joins her aunt’s house-restoration project in the wilderness, determined to take a stand for independence, but two men have different plans for her—and so does God.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
I didn't know until I moved here to Texas, that mistletoe, aside from cactus and live oak, was about the only green decoration during winter that could replace holly with white berries instead of red. I would have to look up where that kissing tradition came from. But in Wisconsin where no mistletoe grew, you could buy in the five and dime stores in small packages.
I recall when driving to McAllen from Houston you could stop by a tree along the highway, climb it and get a nice bunch of mistletoe. I saw harvesters once shooting it out of trees with a 22 rifle so they didn't have to climb.
Ron
Fee
Regis 🙏🎄⛄🌺🍁