How Many Before It's A Streak?

Here we are again. The Christmas season. Holidays abound and everyone reaches out to spend time with their loved ones, friends and family alike.

Smiles gleam and the sounds laughter escape warm houses and drift into the cold night air. They echo down to the brightly lit street where I stroll, alone in the night as snow slowly gathers on my shoulders from the falling flakes.

At the first house, I walk up the yard and peer into the frost tinged window, blinking as the light hits my eyes. Muffled singing seeps through to my ears as I stare at the delight on the faces of friends crooning together, arms over shoulders, drinks in hand. What they were singing didn't matter. They were together and that was where the happiness came from. Being together. A twinge of pain pulls my eyes away and I return to my walk down the middle of the road.

I approach another house flooding the snow with light and I hesitantly make my way to the window. While the gathering here is slightly more tame than the previous party, not a single person inside is enjoying themselves any less. Everyone is sitting comfortably around the elaborately decorated room, simply talking. Their conversation is a mystery to me, but I can't help but imagine tales of years gone by, everyone fondly reminiscing the happy past they shared. Blinking away tears before they could fall, I back away to the street.

I walk on, sounds of happiness echoing in my ears. I've never had the strength to hold these tears back on my own for very long. Walking down the street alone, surrounded by the happiness of those I love who don't even see me, I've never felt so alone. So isolated. So broken. The tears break through.

Here we are again. The Christmas season. Holidays abound and everyone reaches out to spend time with their loved ones, friends and family alike. This metaphor is not far from the truth. I can't wait for January when people remember me again.