antidote | h.s.

38 - yours

ashton mackenzie

Christmas time is always my favorite.

It just gives a vibe that can't be achieved by any other season or holiday.

A PNW Christmas is different from a movie Christmas, though, and while I might be biased, I think it's better.

We get thirty degree weather, Christmas tree farms practically everywhere, snow on the mountains in the distance, and, if we're lucky, we get the first snow  right before Christmas.

It's always better when we long for it. It makes the snow more special.

When I was in high school, we would decorate for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving. My mom is also a huge Christmas fanatic, and even though Dad and Chloe protested, we would override that easily.

We'd have to wait until December to get a tree, though, and when I became an adult with my own place and a job that keeps me busy, that decorating day got pushed back further and further. Last year I never even got a tree.

That is unacceptable, according to Harry. Which is why he's brought me out on December first to the nearest Christmas tree farm. He blasted Christmas songs the whole way and sang along at the top of his lungs.

I'm obsessed with him.

I think I love him.

I mean, I don't really know if I know what that feels like. Love is such a foreign concept for me, but I know that it can't be just a coincidence that I feel this strongly for him.

I keep hoping something will just jump out at me and tell me that I'm right. That I love him and only him and I'm not just some hopeless romantic that wants to be in love. I need a sign that I'm not crazy.

He makes me feel wanted. He makes me feel happy, He helps me feel strong, He guides me to a place where I can recognize my own strength and abilities.

I am so strong.

I don't think I needed a boy to help me realize that, but I needed someone to not accept the bullshit I spat out about how I wasn't. And he not only didn't accept it, he led me to a different view of myself.

And as we sit here in the heat of the car waiting for our turn to go pick a tree, he sings along to Frank Sinatra's Let it Snow, his hands wrapped around mine to keep them warm, and his leg bouncing in excitement, I know this is more than just hopeless romantics. I'm not sure if I can label it with the L word just yet, but I know I'm not going to deny it anymore.

"Are you ready, my pretty?"

An addition to the nicknames he always calls me has been the word "my" right before. It makes my tummy feel warm every time.

"I'm very ready."

When the lot attendant waves at us to let us know it is our turn, Harry is jumping out of the car and sprinting to my door to open it. He grabs my hand to help me out of the car, but drops it right away, walking to the back door and reaching into the car to pull out his camera.

Once the strap is secured around his neck, he grabs my hand again and pulls me forward without acknowledging my questioning eyes.

I ignore it, knowing nothing I say will change his mind about whatever his plans for that camera may be. He's sneaky.

I can smell the trees immediately, and I feel so happy I might cry. The rows of pines come into view all at once, with miles of forested green to be seen for what seems like forever. I don't even realize I'm squeezing Harry's hand until his squeezes mine back, and I do it again.