Short and Sweet

Last night I started celebrating the holidays at a party thrown by a neighbor, a doctor, who knows me mostly from my Monday recycle bin antics. Most of our “core group” of young professionals were there, including the aunt and mom of “Trouble,” a 13-year-old heart breaker who has decided I make a good “older girl friend.”

I was a bit self-conscious, mostly in a good way, because I wore a very short sweater dress, bare-legged, and my signature ballet flats. I was exposed just enough to be naughty, but also just modest enough for a neighborhood party.

The doc had built a creative little deck in his back yard that was elevated so it peeked over his fence, to the pool area of our community area. The neighborhood had put up Christmas lights and decorations around the pool, so the deck afforded a lovely view. And the night sky was gloriously dark for the Geminids meteor shower. I slipped out the back door, to the deck, and settled into a cushioned chaise to enjoy the view. Alone and quiet, it was the perfect ending to a hectic week of finals.

After a while, I heard the back door open. Turning, I saw Trouble coming up to the deck, with a glass of wine in her hand. Without waiting to be asked, she sat, snuggled close to me and handed me the wine. She touched my bare leg. It erupted in goosebumps!

“Aren’t you cold?” she said.

Sitting on the chaise, my tiny sweater dress had ridden to the top of my thigh, and more. I tugged it down and said something brilliant like, “No …  no, I’m fine.” She smiled, her big eyes glistening, and teased, singing, softly, “The cold never bothered me anyway….”

We talked about shooting stars, Christmas, travel, school, and, of course, boys. It must have been almost an hour before people spilled onto the patio with us.