Thirtieth

“Is this house haunted or is it just me?” asked my dear friend after seeing her socks lying down neatly on the carpet beside the bed. She did not remember taking it out last night. Looking at the chipped wall, elaborate carvings, stern wooden cupboards, this building did look old. In the name of Sherlock’s deduction, we just assumed the OCD friend took out her socks and put it nicely last night. I put out the red rosary from my mom, though. Putting in on the bed frame. 

I always opened the window few inches at night so in the morning the sunray would wake me up. However, today grey cloud hung in the horizon, raindrops ticked the window glass. Cole Porter’s Let’s Fall in Love from Midnight in Paris played from another friend’s laptop. He’s now lying down on the carpet waiting for us to rise. I liked Alanis Morissette's rendition in De-Lovely better.

We woke up pretty early this morning. For breakfast, we fixed English muffins with salmon, cream cheese, spinach, and poached eggs. The second course was banana pancake with topping choices of honey, baileys cream, vanilla cream, and Ben and Jerry’s chocolate fudge leftover. In the thirtieth of December morning, we talked about EndNote application, essays, scholarship monthly allowance, future jobs, basically as dull yet calming as the weather outside. Hot green tea then wrapped up our morning meal.

Christmas in the windy Edinburgh started with roast chicken, parsnip, and carrots deservingly. We messaged the chicken with olive, salt, black pepper, and stubbed it with rosemary and thyme. She & Him Christmas album for soundtrack. Dessert was a selection of assorted mint chocolate and baileys chocolate in red and green boxes. Nomad travelers brought them for gift in exchange for shelters. Chocolaty palate then washed down with mulled wine, Sunkist oranges, cinnamon stalks, star anises, sugar, apple cider, and other spices drenched and boiled in red wine. The best flavor of course the drips you got when you squeeze the boiled, swelled, drenched oranges after the last sip of mulled wine in the pot. This was a recipe to anxiety since wine will lull you instead of waking you up for midnight mass. That called for coffee. The Sumatran coffee package was just an inch away but I thought 30-minute power nap was enough for Christmas mass prep. I tended to fall asleep in masses. The night went away and Christmas morning arose with pink ribbon-tied package in front of my door, with ear-muffs inside. Nice surprise. Lunch was chicken leftovers stir-fried with rice with the girls. The road was silent and serene, like I am Legend scene. End of December was always dreary, weary. 

I like my rogue allure velvet fading through the day

From color block to reddish stain

I like it the best at the end of the day

It’s saturating bold not a pinkish plain

Dry flowers gleaming glory

It darkens, their petals crispy

They don’t come as mild

Agile, then give in to the wild

Their fragility blooms

In gory colored flakes

Their youth is not born

It protrudes

from brightness that fades