Actual Trestle Bridge from Google – no copyright infringement intended
no idea where I was going where my footsteps were taking me not long off the bus and my bags still hanging off the borrowed bed I’m running toward something my faith in a girl next door relationship built on the stock of only a few summers we were school break friends and I just had to see this according to everyone and everyone was going to be there that was the promise and with a pinky swear I was a nervous boy in a foreign land on loan from thirteen-year-old best buds speaking only the language of the shy and quiet ones making what would become a beautiful memory under the bright big moon along the sparkle-kissed river surrounded by the sounds of the teenage on a warm night in August by the trestle bridge
Screw the cab, it’s nice out, and I’m walking. Ah, the Christmas Eve Night walk home. This memory is further to the first snowfall entry I posted a few days ago in terms of the atmosphere it creates. A single awesome holiday mini-tradition that we tend to forget about. You don’t realize how Christmassy it is until you’re there in the moment. If you ask me, there’s no better backdrop to a beautiful Christmas then ending it with a brisk cool clean air walk home. Alone, or with a special loved one. Either way, it creates a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. You’re Christmas so far has been nothing but food, drinks, music, friends, and your loving family. Annnnd, the best part. Well, the best part was Santa still had to swing by the old house to drop off the gifts. Score. Oh, and turkey tomorrow…oh my God, Mmmmm, nan’s turkey!!!
Yes, I remember those nights when I close my eyes. How the stars always had the right amount of glow to them. Enough to guide you home. I loved how the streets had just fallen snow that sparkled in the light and covered the whole roadway. The only imperfection was a single set of tire tracks that belonged to that one taxi that was still making runs. I can still see those super big snowflakes as they fell sideways against the shine of the streetlight as I passed the last stretch toward home. By that time all I could think of was how comfy my bed was going to be.
Those chilled-to-the-bone but warm-to-the-heart walks home are still very vivid in my memory. No matter if it’s twenty years ago or just last year, I love a good stroll on Christmas Eve Night. Because in the end, there’s snow place like home and I’m going to jingle all the way.
Friends come in flowers, some in weeds. The flowers rise with us, support us, and share in the things that help us grow and prosper. The weeds smother us, try to take us over, steal all the sunshine and choke out life until we fall. When you plant your gardens, make sure you can tell them apart. – Ash
Irish night with a few black beers for luck stood elbow to elbow in the midst of strange drunkards three sheets to the wind placing little wagers before the clock struck and the tender turns us away like the last three nights we’ve been
A cold beer ran down my lips, to my chin in a moment I knew would last a lifetime there was a pool table…balls racked ready for a break some girl singing on the radio we both sang a few of the words those we could remember all night we competed best in banter, best in billards, best in brew, but never best in friends that belonged to you
Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home. – Edith Sitwell
Earth To Ash 