December 25, 2010
What do you live for? That is, of course, if you live at all. . . .
“Have a holly jolly Christmas! It’s the most wonderful time of the year! Here comes Santa Clause, here comes Santa Clause . . . ” Jacob rang through the living room helping me assemble all the ornaments on the tannenbaum tree.
I chuckled and he directed his eyes to me in a questioning tone.
“You sang three different Christmas songs. Oh, Jake,” I said as I collapsed to the floor, unable to manage the laughter. And on top of that, Jacob was far beyond off key which made me to laugh even greater.
“Come on Jakie, I’ll race you outside for another snowball fight!” And I dashed for my coat and my wool cap laced with a silk bow to prepare for the most jolly weather of all; a winter wonderland.
Winter has to be my favorite season of all because of all the holiday cheer that is distributed from all the different seasonal holidays. And no matter what religion, or beliefs one abides to, everyone gathers together for the ending of another year.
I also enjoy the typical holiday festivities which include Grandma Esme’s delectable cookies and baking several Bûche de Noël to appease the palate. Though I’m not inclined to join a group activity such as singing in a choir, I do sing Christmas carols for my family.
And who could forget the snowball fights with Jake? Over the years his excuses for losing against me have become more lame. Especially since now that I’m older and have an increase in my fighting chance of winning, he now excuses his losses with, “Esme’s homemade cookies and cocoa is giving me a stomachache.”
I hid behind a garbage can fortress that I constructed five years ago solely for the purpose of snowball fights. It was made of three garbage cans bonded together with rope. This made winning even more simpler than a breeze because I could stash pre–made snowballs inside the cans. And when I wished to shoot, I’d just aim at Jacob’s body and release the ball a million times to sweep the victory.
I immediately scooped a pile of snow then formed it into three snowballs at a time. Jacob threw a few balls at me, but of course missed each time.
“Awww c’mon, Ness!” He pleaded as I bombarded him with the snow.
It was difficult to grant him mercy when torturing him was endless fun. I couldn’t help but direct the snow at his face, it bothered him the most.
But after a while, I just ceased the process and collapsed in the sea of snow. Jake would lay beside me and watch with astonishment as I flapped my arms and legs to create snow angels in the snow. I think what surprises him the most is how gentle and serene I am; there are no surprise attacks like with the snowball fights… just me relaxing in my favorite weather, in the snow.
He did something different this time. Instead of gazing at me for the entire time, he molded his warm palm into mine. It didn’t matter who was watching or what was happening, but we both pressed our lips against each others for a bliss–filled moment under the snowflakes that danced around us.
Jacob lifted me up and cradled me in his arms as I inhaled his sweet breath. As always, he headed for the kitchen, hypnotized by Esme’s hearty lamb stew and hot cocoa with whipped cream.
Watching your werewolf boyfriend scarf down an entire pot of stew was not strange. But seeing him under the mistletoe dressed formally with Chanel Allure Homme Sport cologne was.
“Nice Santa suit… er… dress, Ness,” Jake said as he eyed me from head to toe. I was also sporting my high heel boots to complete the Santa look.
“Where’s Grandpa Charlie and Billy?” There was no sign of them as my pupils scoured the room. Carlisle and Esme had invited them like always, but they weren’t there.
“Charlie is down with the flu and Billy didn’t want to leave Charlie alone for Christmas,” Jacob answered.
Disappointment crushed my holiday cheer especially since I was I was going to sing my rendition of “Christmas Must be Something More” by Taylor Swift.
I slowed the song down a bit and incorporated different guitar chords. And without my grandpa and Billy, I was more reluctant to perform.
My mother was busying herself with pleasing the wolf pack and their imprints with stuffed mushrooms and devilled eggs. My Dad was playing on the piano a song I recognized as “Silver Bells.” Alice was taking pictures of everyone, bouncing from person to person, highly giddy as usual. Rose and Emmett were huddled by the crackling fire, not needing to bathe in it like the humans in the room, but they enjoyed looking at it regardless.
In between our New Hampshire home’s two piece grand staircase, was a stage. My Father insisted that it be built for my performances that I did every–so–often for special events and even for simple home entertainment.
On the stage, however, was something rather peculiar even in the light of Christmas Eve. It was a ginormous present, about the size of a golf cart.
Jacob walked up to the present and whispered something into it. Yes, he whispered into the gift.
Instantly I could notice the top of the gift begin to rise and two men dressed as Santa popped out like Jack-in-the-box.
“Surprise, surprise!” they both cheered, as the taller Santa pushed the other Santa in a wheel chair. To my wretched heart, I couldn’t believe it. It was Grandpa Charlie and Billy – both dressed as Santa!! This had by far been the best Christmas surprise of all time!
“Ho, ho!” They cried as they allotted mini gifts to everyone. How they got in that present, especially behind my back, I’ll never know. The most important part of it was their presence and that they were going to celebrate Christmas with us. That’s all that mattered to me. I love the both of them, my Grandpa and my soon to be father-in-law.
After the distribution of their gifts, I replaced the opened gift box alongside my guitar.
Jasper seemed to find this humorous because he was chuckling and soon everyone else formed a harmony of laughter. It must have been an inside joke that I obviously wasn’t included in.
“Renesmee, look at the guitar you’re holding,” Uncle Jasper finally announced, which seemed to end the laughter.
And when I looked at the guitar I didn’t see my guitar but another one. It was a brand new, shining maple acoustic/electric from Fender.
“Thank you,” I chuckled at myself for not even realizing the new treasure I was holding.
“Well play it, dear. We know you’ve been eying this guitar for awhile,” Esme chimed in. It was true, I had been spotting this guitar months.
So I performed my song to the eager audience and I even added in “Jingle Bells” so everyone could sing-along. Jake’s flat voice stuck out from the rest, but nonetheless it was a joyous event.
Following my performance, the Christmas roast was served….five heaping pot roasts to be exact. All the immortals pretended to join in on the meal just to make the dining experience a little less awkward for the human guests. As for me, I devoured my occasional glass of blood for perfect measure to the already wonderful night.
For dessert, the typical Christmas cookies were served as well as figgy pudding and the Bûche de Noël. Seth enjoyed the idea of “ripping the gingerbread cookies” by munching on the arms and legs like a child. Sam jerked him on the shoulder, but I didn’t mind. It was Christmas where everyone gets to be a child again.
After all, weren’t we all going to dream of dancing sugar-plums and awake early to unravel our Christmas presents the next morning? We all had the same childish spirit inside us that crept out only on Christmas morning. We all lived for the priceless grin on our faces when the wrapping paper unveiled something we’d been yearning for for a long time.
Good night for now! I’ll write about Christmas tomorrow,
It was four a.m when I awoke. But in my house this is not a concern as I am the only one that sleeps.
With the rally of Christmas the whole month, I couldn’t abstain from the gifts.
My Dad folded the newspaper he had been reading and chuckled with delight over the fact that I still acted like a little girl on Christmas morning.
“I suppose it’s present time,” my father said and smiled the crooked smile in which I mirrored, to add effect.
“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” I said as everyone gathered in the living room.
“All right, who wants to go first?” I asked, though it was quite obvious I wished to open my presents first.
“Go ahead, Nessie. I think you’ll like mine,” Uncle Emmett chuckled while Rose punched him.
I opened the box to see a doll. I never played with dolls as a child, so I was surprised to see one.
“It’s you . . . a customized doll that’s you, see?” Emmett defended his gift, clearly proud of what he gave me.
As I looked deeper I could see the bronze, curly hair and chocolate brown eyes on the doll.
“Thanks, Emmett! I love it—she’s beautiful.”
Rose gave me a purple hanging chair for my room. I always admired hanging chairs, so it was perfect. I’d have my own swing in my room.
Alice and Jasper both bought me a purple butterfly diamond hair clip. Alice immediately attached the clip into my curls.
“Very bonita,” Alice commented, in awe of her present. Jasper’s expression was as dull as the statue of David by Michelangelo. He reached his hand in his pocket and grabbed a charm bracelet which featured purple leaves.
Carlisle and Esme were next to give me a tiny box which held a key. Of course it was for a car, but it wasn’t just any car. It was the exclusive 2011 E550 Mercedes-Benz Cabriolet in my favorite car color, an icy blue hue.
After thanking them graciously, I was anxious to see what my Father had in mind to give me this Christmas.
“I wasn’t quite sure what to get you this year,” he said then snatched his present, neatly wrapped in its box.
“I’m sure I’ll love it no matter what it is, Daddy,” I assured him, then flashed him my crooked grin which seemed to invite him to finally hand the gift over.
The box coveted a vintage hairbrush and comb. Both were made of metal and shined as if new. The brush had a heart shape on the backside, lined with rose and pearl. It was beautiful and I could ask for nothing more.
My Mother had presented me with another vintage item; ballet slippers. Though the slippers were bruised and beaten, they were still like new.
“I was never fond of dancing, but it seems to be your muse.”
And it was true. Though I do not write of it, I do actually dance ballet. It’s my favorite sport and I’ve been doing it since I was born.
Now it was my turn to pass out my gifts; first I began with my parents. For my Mother I had a portrait of us painted with water color assents.
My Father was given the shoes I wore when I was a newborn, only with bronze metal casting so that they could be preserved. My dad, without a heartbeat, fell in love with his Christmas gift; his little girl would never disappear, never.
As for Alice, I searched every online store for a purse that would please her. I found a leather and python printed fur purse to fit her quirky personality. She was delighted to know that the bag was over five hundred.
To reprise Jasper’s Birthday gift, I bought him a pair of leather cowboy boots this time. He removed his own Gucci shoes, and fitted into the cowboy boots that not only comforted his feet, but his heart as well.
Alice didn’t even puff in annoyance that the boots didn’t match his outfit; she just let him be merry with his new gift. After all, it wasn’t like everyday Jasper smiled or seemed content at the least. So for everyone this was a blissful moment, one not to be disturbed or forgotten.
I bought Rosalie some Jimmy Choo boots and Emmett a golden ax. I had no clue what to give Emmett, but I assumed he’d make use of the ax with his burly, muscular figure.
There was no way of repaying my Grandparents for the gift they’ve given me, but I did rack up a few items. For Esme, I managed to find a collection of Giorgio Armani cosmetics that accompanied every color and style. I didn’t buy Carlisle anything special, just a Calvin Klein sweater with argyle design (not that he’d ever actually use it; just for presentation during winter in front of the humans).
Following lunch, I was able to see Jacob; he had been patrolling during the early morning hours.
After a few hugs and kisses he granted me his “poorly wrapped gift.” It wasn’t the most dainty wrapped gift, but I ripped the wrapping off anyway, so the subject was dropped.
I knew that he would give me another one of his carvings, but this was incredible. It was a small figure in front of a giant heart.
“Renesmee Cullen, I don’t only love you, but I live for you.” And he kissed me passionately to prove his statement. I knew it was true, anyway.
So what do I live for? I live for the grace of my family, friends, and my love, Jacob Black. I live for the falling snowflakes that melt in our tongues and dance in the air. My heart only beats for the carols that yonder from the spirit of Jesus’ Birthday.
What do you live for?