The Mrs Clause

We hadn’t planned to stand here again, the two of us, under a starry sky.

But habits form quickly, even in longterm friendships which see the ebb and flow of interests shared, diverging occasionally regardless of time, knowing you’re friends for life.

We’re standing here, eaten alive by mosquitoes on a hot Alabama night, in this moment we’ve wanted to share our whole lives, moving mountains with our words, building a new multiverse in the conversational pauses.


Because we can and do.

You dressed as Mrs. Santa, me as Santa, waving at passing cars.

A driver stops and rolls down his window. “You looking a ride?”

Both of us react as if the stranger was offering us a ride back to his place until we realise he’s an Uber driver.

He wishes us a Merry Christmas as he drives on.

In our conversation, straightforward, honest, two geeky nerd friends holding dirty Santa gifts in our arms like kids in the hallway holding schoolbooks, we catch up on past events and current emotional states.

We share our true love — as well as love for your child (the local dance group), a bundle of joy wrapped in the love of dance — of giving ourselves and others happiness in the form of dancing and socialising.

We aren’t the only ones who love dancing or love what we do.

But we are us, here, now, two giddy kids excited about the same thing that we envision not just an an idea but something concrete.

I remember your younger enthusiastic self at the same time I compliment you on your maturity, knowing years before that we’d stand here together having this conversation.

Seeing the future is as much about making it happen.

Knowing as I do that we’ve already lived hundreds of years in the future, my confidence remains the same.

I stand here with you knowing this is us, planning the future.

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