Chapter Eleven

THE ANDERCHRONICLES

By Me, Ellee

[WARNING: The following story has been rated FNF*]
*Fiction NOT Fact

“ The Magic of Christmas Night”

The hearth, warmed by the blazing fire, was the perfect place for Molly to curl up and dream of doggie things. And Molly, being warmed by that hearth, was the perfect place for Andy to rest his head and dream of . . . well who knows? Maybe some wars or hurricanes, mudslides, tornadoes, floods, tsunamis, and most likely an earthquake or two. Both dog and master were fast asleep after an exhausting day of Christmas festivities and the Louis XIV chair affair. It was good to see them sleeping so peacefully.

However, that was about to end. You see, I was watching out the window in anticipation of the predicted snow flurries. Nighttime snow is somehow more magical than daytime snow, particularly if there is a full moon, which was the case Christmas night. And it's important to understand that the punctuated, gravitational pull of the moon in its full phase only seems to exert an initial reaction, which is due, in part that is, to the miscalculation of the lunar gravitational gradient which was thought to be the case in the early sixties by scientists who just didn’t have all their ducks in a row at the time. But since then it has been corrected, and now it’s a known fact that the moon, once thought to be a homogenous mass of rock according to its known volume, is in fact hollow, thus exerting only one-sixth of the usual impact of its velocity, which means for us lay persons back here on earth, the snow falling this particular night was more magical, as a result of it being lighter, fluffier and falling at an extremely decreased rate of speed. In other words, those flakes were just ‘floating’ to earth with all the grace of a ballet dancer. It was going to be a magical night—a gift. And I didn’t want Andy and I to miss it. So I called out,

“Andy . . . Andy . . . wake up! HEY! Wake up!” But he wasn’t waking up, so I grabbed his shoulders and began shaking him.

“Leave me alone,” he protested, swatting in my direction, “I’m sleeeeeping!”

Molly was awake now and eagerly joined in the game to wake Andy as she stood up, letting Andy’s head hit the floor. Then she jumped on his chest and started barking, tail wagging, tongue dripping,“Woof, woofffffff, woofffffffffff!”

“Down girl, down . . . go . . . go away!” Andy commanded. “Why are you two bothering me? Can’t you see I want to sleep?”

“Andy, there’s something I want to show you. Something I want to share with you.” My voice was urgent, indicating I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I grabbed his arm and started tugging, “Come on . . . get up!”

“What is it, for crying out loud? What is it you want?”

I continued pulling and by that time Molly had latched on to his pant leg and was pulling, too. Finally he stood up, forcing an exasperated breath, and then, allowing his frown to face me straight on, eyes squinting, both hands at his hips, barked,“Whaaaat?”

“Quick, get your coat, boots, and gloves, we’re going outside. Molly can come, too.”

And then turning to Molly, I asked, “Molly, outside?”At that she immediately became excited and started running around barking. She knew what that meant. She loved being outdoors. With Molly on my side, I knew there was no stopping us now.

“Ellee, just give it up! I'm NOT going outside. Look at it out there,” he exclaimed, turning to the window, “it’s snowing, and it’s wet, and it’s COLD! Why would I WANT to go out there in that, when I can stay in here by this fire? That’s just nuts! Ellee, YOU’RE JUST NUTS and I’m NOT going out there!”

“Sure you are,” I stated confidently, hooking my arm through his and starting for the doorway, Molly following gingerly, Andy resisting all the way.

After a million protests, using every excuse imaginable why he wouldn’t go outside, the three of us found ourselves at the park entrance not far from Andy’s. As we passed under the wrought iron archway, covered with snow and long icicles which had semi-thawed and re-frozen enough times so that they reached nearly to our heads, we saw an incredible winter snowscape laid out before us. It was at that very moment I heard it —and wondered if Andy had, too. This night was a majestic one, and although the sun had left early, the moon had arrived early to take its place, glowing as only a full moon in it brightest phase can, lighting up the night sky like a big overhead flood light.

Large delicate flakes of snow resembling bits of cotton candy were floating through the air riding the gentle air currents, much like the Crenshaw bird had done that morning. And when these gossamer ice crystals caught the moonlight as it filtered through white padded tree branches, they glinted momentarily, giving the suggestion of little bursts of light, like fireflies on a hot summer’s evening.

Everything in the park was pure white, untouched since the last snowfall late in the afternoon. We appeared to be the only ones there. The thick blanket of snow muffled any city sounds trying to make their way into our little wonderland. The moonlight was mining snow diamonds — millions of snow diamonds. Everywhere I looked I could see them glistening and glinting—on the ground and benches, in the trees and on the statues and rocks, and even on the frozen pond, and everywhere the snow had collected, begging to be scooped up and flung into the chilled air to cascade like a springtime shower of diamond raindrops.

“Do you hear it, Andy?” I asked, my eyes wide with the excitement of this Christmas night.

“Hear what?”

“Listen,” I said.

His eyes darted to find the source of what he was supposed to be hearing. “I don’t hear it. I don’t hear anything at all—only the silence.”

“Look,” I said, twirling around, pointing out the snow-covered trees, the floating snowflakes, the brisk air, the silvery moon, the brilliant snow diamonds. “You have to SEE it, before you can HEAR it! Now listen . . . Now do you hear it?”

“What . . . what I am supposed to be hearing, Ellee?”

“The Magic!” I answered. “Do you hear the Magic?”

“You can’t HEAR magic,” he said, a little perturbed.

But Molly heard it. She was so busy running through the snow, stopping suddenly to catch a snowflake, and when her paws found no traction on the slick ice sheet, she went skidding into the large mounds of the white fluff. Then burying her snout deep into the drifts she would chase them in front of her, always ending up with a large mouthful to eat, which she did playfully, throwing her head back as she bit at the ice crystals, and then lunging forward in a gleeful little jump. She was covered in snow and loving it. Yes, she definitely heard it.

I realized then I would have to show Andy HOW to hear the magic. So, Molly and I ran off together down the winding pathway, through the trees and past the frozen pond into the open snow field, stirring up the frosty fluff as we went, wisps of snow spraying in our faces, squeals and barks of delight echoing throughout the park as we ran. Andy, not wanting to be left behind followed, but not with the same commitment to the occasion.

When we reached the middle of the field, I stopped and turned to face him. After a moment I reached down and scooped up thousands of snow diamonds and launched them into the cold night air. Their ascent was in —s - l - o - w—m - o - t - i - o - n—so that as they caught the shimmering moonlight, they flashed their brilliance to the earth below in a graceful, auroral display. And once their reach could no longer exceed the confines of gravity, they began to fall, again in—s - l - o - w—m - o - t - i - o - n—stinging our faces as they sprayed us with their frosty little crystals.

“Look, Andy, SNOW DIAMONDS! You DO see them, don’t you? Can you feel them on your cheeks?” And once again I reached down for a handful and threw them into the air, only this time, over Andy’s head.

“Yes, Yes, I SEE them!” he answered, his hands on their way up to protect his face from the oncoming snow. The tone in his voice was anything but impressed.

“Nooooo, don’t do THAT!” I shouted, preventing his hands from shielding his face. “You have to FEEL the snow diamonds on your face. You HAVE to experience that little ‘sting’ when they hit your cheeks.

“Why?”

“Because it is part of the magic of this night. You have to FEEL it and SEE it to HEAR it.”

At that point Molly, as if to validate what I had just said, began running around Andy, barking and jumping up on him as the snow hit her face. Her eyes, wide with anticipation, were begging him to join her wonderful snow experience. After a few seconds, I could see Andy was considering. And then all of a sudden he cried, “Okay, Molly . . . let’s ruuuuuun!”

And off they went through the field, kicking up great mists of snow, yelling and barking, and playing tag. First Andy would chase Molly; then Molly would chase Andy, and when they caught each other, they would drop to the ground and roll around in the snow and laugh and bark. After a while, when they were both struggling for air, they stopped, rapidly exhaling great, white clouds of breath. As Andy glanced my way, I noticed his cheeks were bright pink from the cold air and the snow he had been rolling in. All at once he stooped to the ground and gathered two large handfuls of snow and brought them over to where I was standing.

“Here” he said, placing the snow in front of me, flashing a beguiling smile . “ . . . snow diamonds . . . for you.” His smile at that moment gave warmth to that entire frozen landscape, and for a few seconds I hardly noticed the 20-degree temperature. Our eyes remained fixed on each other for several minutes, and then he said something astonishing, "Let’s make Snow Angels!”

Andy had finally HEARD the magic! Of that I had no doubt. So, for the next half hour, he and I made Snow Angels, twenty-six in all, thirteen each. And Molly made ten Snow Doggies. That whole pristine field of white became dotted with our art work. It was a magnificent sight to see. And the noise of our laughter, plus Molly’s barking rivaled the noise on any children’s playground at noon. Our frolicking finally ended with a wonderful snowball fight, which Molly loved even better than rolling in the snow, because she could chase the balls once we had launched them.

By this time, the three of us were completely out of breath, wet, cold and frozen! But still the Magic continued, for all at once, our attention was drawn upwards to the delicate, little snowflakes falling all around us, one by one, each making their journey from sky to earth. We were awed by what we saw. And there definitely was Magic in those snowflakes.

“Incredible,” Andy whispered, almost reverently, as his eyes followed their path. “Look, Ellee, each little flake, so fragile, so graceful, and no two alike. That’s amazing! I don’t think I have ever seen snow as individual flakes. Well, maybe as a kid I did. But somewhere on the way to adulthood it probably got lost.”

He was mesmerized by the snowflakes, and I was enchanted by his reaction to them. When they started collecting on our hair, he reached out and brushed mine away. And when one landed on my nose, he blew it away. Then, when a few of them got caught on my long eyelashes, he giggled and exclaimed,

“Wow, now they’re hanging from your lashes, like little Christmas tree ornaments dangling from a branch.”

I could see them hanging there in front of my eyes, so I blew at them and blinked several times and they floated away. Then we both giggled.

When one particularly large snowflake floated right between us, I found myself wanting to catch it with my tongue. So, I did. That made Andy giggle even more.

“Now it’s your turn, Andy. You catch one.”

At that, he looked around for just the right flake, and once he had it spotted, began tracking its descent until it came within striking distance, at which precise moment his tongue aimed for it, snatching that little ice crystal right out of the air in a split second. We both laughed, and simultaneously began searching for others to capture. We spent the next few minutes tracking, capturing and then laughing. Even Molly had joined in this game, and once again joyful sounds of this magical night rang out through the park.

While searching the sky for suitable snow flakes, I noticed there was a halo around the moon, and although I knew these halos are actually nothing more than tiny ice crystals in the atmosphere refracting and reflecting moonlight into different angles, thus causing the appearance of a halo around the moon, I also knew legend has it that if two people see it together, at the same time on Christmas Night, their relationship would continue on forever, like a ring or a circle which has no end. Knowing this I, of course, wanted to draw his attention to it, thus sealing our destiny, so naturally I said,

“Andy, look up in the sky . . . What do you see?”

Glancing up, he quickly answered, “The moon. I see the moon.”

“Anything else?”

“No, just the moon . . . oh, wait . . . I DO see something else . . .”

“What . . .?” I asked, full of anticipation for the answer that would soon confirm he, too, had seen that halo.

“I see . . . the man in the moon AND . . . he’s laughing at us!”

And with that, he took to giggling again and ran off to catch more snowflakes with his tongue. It was good to see him relaxed and enjoying himself, but the thought crossed my mind that maybe he was hearing too much Magic by then. Molly and I had to run to keep up with him.

When we finally we caught up with him, we joined him once again in the ongoing snowflake hunt. The snow was coming down harder by then, and finding just the right flake was becoming increasingly more difficult, there were so many to choose from. At one point, Andy and I accidently got too close, bumping into each other, almost knocking us both to the ground. As we were recovering from the near fall, it became apparent we both had the same snowflake in our sites, and were zeroing in on it at the same rate of speed. I could have pulled out of the race at the last second, but decided to go for it and beat him to it. He must have had the same idea, because our tongues leaped out at the same split second, causing what is known as a midair collision—of tongues. However, I’m almost positive nothing like this has ever been recorded anywhere. This was a first.

But that wasn’t the end of it. You see, given the frigid air temperature, plus the amount of saliva on both tongues at the moment of impact, there was an immediate glacial reaction in the molecular structure of the salvia, causing the two tongues to become encased in a solid ice pack, preventing any disengagement on either side. In lay terms, we were frozen together! He looked at me, eyes wide and I looked at him, eyes wider, and then he said,

“Aggg uukib bbuuop, gaaabup ad urrrr pmbbbot?”

And I said,“Uuyepo nt bbbooooggg pkkllg.”

Whereupon he answered, “Ukkopt umm . . . aaaaaaa . . . !”

And I exclaimed, “DRRTOPPQ nnial ywqlmnbbbb, uhg ugggggh, oylkkej!”

What I think all this translated into was, there was NO WAY we were going to get our tongues separated UNTIL the ice crystals holding them together were melted. And that wouldn’t happen until the air around the ice crystals heated up. AND that wasn’t about to occur unless we closed our mouths around our tongues, sealing off the entire area by pressing our lips firmly together, thus allowing the air inside to heat up from our higher body temperatures, which presumably were above freezing. Well . . . that’s probably just a loose translation, but you get the drift. So we did.

After several seconds of Andy's lips being sealed with mine, I thought I heard a chorus of angels singing, but then realized that was probably normal on a Christmas night. I wanted to ask Andy if he had heard it too, but when I said,

“Ooouuuuu hhhhhhbbbgggg od aaaaagggg?” he looked questioningly at me, like he hadn’t understood a vowel I had said, and muttered something to the effect of,

“Whhhhhhhhh iiiiyyuo ddddbbopp?” But I didn't understand a vowel or even a consonant he said either.

All during this time of our polar captivity, Andy’s eyes, given they are an ice crystal blue, had taken on the appearance of two snow diamonds, refracting and reflecting all available light, causing mini ice crystal halos to form around his eyes. It was a strange sight to say the least, and I found myself wishing for a pair of sunglasses, as I was so dazzled by the blinding light being emitted.

Then, after approximately 21.875 minutes, the ice crystals melted, allowing our tongues to separate—which they did. Molly kept vigil at our feet during the whole incident.

After that, I was thinking we had heard enough Magic for the night; we were so cold we couldn’t stop shaking, so we left. On the way back to Andy’s place he suggested we stop and have something hot to warm our insides. And the perfect place to do that was Athenais’ Hot Chocolate Palace, an establishment which specializes in . . . well . . . hot chocolate. It’s owned and run by a good friend of Andy’s, Christian R. Athenais. He was actually working that night. When we questioned him about this, he said he wanted to be there for his friends and anyone else who might need somewhere to hang out for a while. We were glad he was there because it was warm inside—he sat us in front of the roaring fire and it wasn’t long before we were feeling quite toasty. Andy ordered deux tasses de chocolat a la creme, which under normal circumstances, he does NOT drink, but tonight was definitely NOT under normal circumstances.

Christian served the hot chocolate in big bowls, the very same bowls French children use for their morning chocolate. He bought them in Paris—he has an apartment there in the 17th Arrondissement where he visits every three months. In fact, he was getting ready to leave for Paris the day after New Years.

The steaming liquid swirling around in the bowls was the richest chocolate I have ever tasted. Christian imports it from Madagascar using the finest chocolate beans in the world. Floating on top of the chocolate was a big white island of whipped cream, at least six inches thick, topped with a generous sprinkling of Chinese Cassia cinnamon, added for an extra aromatic punch. Topping it all were two tiny green mint leaves, flown in from the Belsnap Plantation in southern Georgia. The bowls had been placed on petite lacy doilies to catch any spills, but with chocolate this fabulous, most likely not one drop is ever wasted.

With the fire warming our outsides, and the hot chocolate our insides, we were prepared to face the cold night once again when it was time to leave. Molly was warmed as well, having spent the whole time right by the fire, sleeping. Andy paid the bill, left a very big tip and we left.

Just before we entered his building, I stopped him and said,

“Andy, every so often—there is no way to know when—a special gift is given. It is a rare, one of a kind, never to be repeated gift; one in which certain elements come together to create something magnificent, awesome, breathtaking—beautiful, at one special time, for only a small duration of time; one where you can never go back and do it all over again no matter how wonderful it was; one which is given, and then it is gone; one which can be missed altogether if the receiver isn’t paying attention. We were given one of those gifts tonight when certain elements all came together in just the right pattern to create this Magical night. It will never happen again in exactly this same wonderful way. It was given; now it is gone; but we experienced it and made it part of us.”

His incredible blue eyes were shimmering in the moonlight, and although he was smiling, he didn’t say a word. Yet, I could tell it had made an impact. He then turned and opened the door for us to enter the lobby. The ride up the elevator seemed long, as if it were a transition.

As Andy opened his apartment door and we went inside, I realized that our Magical night had come to an end—the gift was gone.

“You know, I forgot to water the Christmas tree today,” were the first words out of his mouth.

I immediately started choking as if something had just got stuck in my throat. Andy ran to the kitchen to get some water, and as soon as I was able to catch my breath I said,

“You don’t need to . . . (cough) . . . water. I think that . . . ummmm . . . (cough) tree . . . will be okay for tonight. Really. I can water . . . (cough) . . . it tomorrow.” How was I going to STOP him from watering that . . . tree?

“No,” he replied, “I should do it tonight. I don’t want it drying out too much. It will be easier to plant it, and it won’t be stressed so much when I take it out of it’s pot later this week.”

“Let me do it. You are probably too tired.”

“No, it’s okay. I want to do it.”

What could I say? I could see nothing was going to stop him. He was about to discover My Little Christmas Secret. But, there was no way to change his mind, so I went to my room and sat in the chair, prepared and waiting for the booming explosion I knew was coming down the hall at any moment. I waited for over an hour, but nothing came. Thankfully . . . hopefully, he hadn’t discovered my secret, so I went to bed for the night.

Some time during the night I was awakened by a gentle knock on my door. I heard the door open slightly and Andy whispered, “Ellee?”, but I said nothing. If he thought I was asleep, maybe he wouldn’t yell at me about the tree. So I kept quiet. He continued,

“Ellee, I just wanted you to know . . . it was a beautiful gift . . . and I DID hear the Magic.”

After a few minutes, I heard the door close softly. Only one question remained— Did he see the halo around the moon, also?

Bye for now,
Love,
Ellee