All I want for Christmas is everything that can’t be bought.
Nothing underneath the silvery moon of winter can satisfy my soul, if not for the lingering touches of the simple things.
I can’t say that I want expensive perfume to spray along the soft line of my neck. It’s not silken pajamas that would drape seductively across the rounded curves of my body that I really need. This Christmas there is nothing I want that can be bought.
I want the simple things.
It’s those qualities and aspects of life that I’ve never experienced, and that always seem to remain just out of reach, that would truly make my heart sing. What I want is to feel the deliciousness of having someone have my back, someone to be that partner for me, someone I know I don’t even need to call in order for them to be there in the moments I need them the most.
Perhaps it’s just to know that someone wants to help me as much as I want to help him.
So dear Santa, all I want for Christmas this year is someone.
To wake up to consistency, never having to wonder or consider what specific words or actions mean, because the man who takes me into his arms as he falls asleep next to me has no desire to ever leave me wondering how he feels, or more importantly, what I mean to him.
It’s the kind of relationship that doesn’t shout ostentatiously from the rooftops, but also doesn’t keep me a secret because he’s proud of me, and proud of our love. See, I don’t want to be shown off, I don’t want to become nothing more than a ridiculous hashtag, or relationship status update—but that’s not the same as being kept a secret.
I am just tired of living in the shadows when our love is so damn bright.
This year for Christmas it’d be nice to hear, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” Or to feel the weight that hangs heavy around my shoulders become just a little bit lighter because someone cares enough for me to want to lift that burden; to make my life a little easier.
It’s not in the grand gestures or big gifts but in the quiet moments: the folding of laundry, or gassing up the car. Love is in the everyday: the shoveling of the walkway, or the making of homemade soup. It’s quiet and unassuming, and while it’s never boastful, it’s also not misleading.
Love is always there showing its full hand.
All I want for Christmas are the moments that make up a life, the ones that many mistake for the monotony of a settled-down life. I’ve realized that my heart has both wings and an anchor, and because of that, I’ll always be free.
It seems that we often, even as free spirits, box ourselves in. We deny the desire for domesticity, for consistency, and for the little acts of love that can only be shown through two people who decide to share their lives together.
But the reality is, I never had to choose. I only thought that I did. Now that I know just how high I can soar into the possibility of life wide open, I also desire a home base with him…the man who sets me free in the first place.
I want to hear that I am his person, the one that life is not the same without, and perhaps more than all of this, to find out that maybe my heart has become his home too. I am tired of being a stopover to something that is perceived as better, and the overly romanticized ideal of being a candle to light the way for someone else’s darkness, has lost its appeal.
For Christmas I want the future wrapped simply and placed into my hopeful hands so that I may nourish it and tend to it as the most precious of gifts.
It’s always about where we feel the most at peace, and so maybe it’s just that I hope to discover that I am his. Life will never be easy or without complications, but that doesn’t mean it can’t work out better than we expect.
And so, perhaps it’s just the effort that I am speaking of.
To know that the someone I’d do anything for would also return the favor at a moment’s notice, and that this person wants all of their small and big moments to happen by my side. It’s about the quiet of Christmas Eve, the exuberance of birthdays, and of course the quiet love that permeates Saturday evenings.
It’s the kind of feeling that leaves us holding hands as we walk down the street as the snow floats around us, and it’s the strong and capable warm shoulder I lean my head on during the pastor’s sermon on a cold Sunday morning.
Maybe I’m guilty of overthinking, of over-desiring, but I can never be seen as over-loving. And, while I never want to be boxed into normality or any specific way of living, I still want to make plans with someone.
It brings tears to my eyes as I think of the ending of the movie “Leap Year.” Anna and Declan stand on the edge of the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland and she cries because he’s walked away from her when she tells him, trying to hide her feelings from him, that she doesn’t want to make plans with him. But moments later, Declan returns and says, “I don’t want to not make plans with you, I want to make plans with you.”
Maybe all I want for Christmas is someone who wants to make plans with me.
Whether it’s for dinner, a weekend away, or even a night in, my someone will never doubt that I am his someone—and because of that, he’ll want to begin to make plans for our forever.
So, all I want for Christmas is not just someone, but my someone.