Like A Shooting Star

Merry Christmas

"Hello"- means speech.
"Love you all"-means flashback.

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Christmas is celebrated in joy. A time of wonderful memories of happiness, celebration of life. Children and adults sing in choirs, warming the cold air of December. Snow doesn't matter; in fact, one can experience even the simple delight of gathering heaps of it to form his own snowman. Buildings never escape Christmas lights, neither do the barren trees outside them. Evergreen wreath by the door, mistletoe above it. The smiles won't end there, though. Just inside one's home, it's impossible not to be merry when one is gathered with family and friends, exchanging presents, sitting, laughing near a Christmas tree, a tradition adorned with ornaments of red and gold. And even once, one would look up to gaze at the top of the big tree, a smile tugging at his lips at the sight of the Star of Bethlehem, fondly called by others as the Christmas star.

A youthful girl wouldn't be able to experience these wonderful promises of Christmas spirit, for she had already left the festive mood. No, there were no such promises this year; never would there ever be for the rest of her days. Too ironic; the whole world was celebrating life, rejoicing in lively green and poinsettia red, while she was among embodied dull gray, lifeless white.

"Tyson"

Dead silence.

Not a shroud of gray could be seen at the blue sky, the rays of the sun making the snowy ground glisten, smiling down at her in irony.

"Tyson, it's me, Hillary." The girl smiled wanly. "Merry Christmas." Gingerly, gloved fingers brushed away some of the snow resting on the edges of the gravestone, then slowly hung a Christmas wreath around a pole specially built just behind it. Deep soulful green laced around by red and golden trails, blending almost in perfection with Christmas white—so beautiful… Energy, enthusiasm. Vigor, happiness…

The colors blurred before her, something she had tried avoiding, and she wiped her eyes. No, I promised myself that I would pull myself together… for him…

"Well, we can't let you spend the season alone, can we?" The brunette tried talking to the headstone before her as though Tyson were just in front of her. Maybe… Maybe if she tried hard enough, she would be able to convince herself that he really was. A bright smile appeared on her delicate face.

She could still remember last Christmas, the last year when he had been physically present with all of them. Everybody was so happy, she remembered. She was so happy.

Swept in sweet and happy memories, the forced smile started becoming real. Alive. "And look." One hand brought out a Christmas ornament, a turtledove of shared memories with her friend. She had heard about it once from a movie she had watched before: You keep one and give the other one to a very special person. In an instant, she saw herself exactly one year ago, when she herself handed a Christmas blue box to Tyson, saying those exact words.

"Really?" Tyson blinked, visibly surprised. "Aren't turtledoves a part of some Christmas song?"

And she nodded. "Turtledoves are a symbol of friendship and love. They say as long as you and the person you give have your turtledove, you'll be friends forever." Suddenly she looked away, somehow feeling embarrassed and silly for basing a gift on the belief within some flick. "Sorry if that sounds so cheesy and lame. Anyway, Merry Christmas."

And she had been so sure that the turtledoves would land in the nearest trash bin or he would laugh his guts out.

"Hey, Hillary, where are you going?"

"Home. Is there anything you need from me?"

"Well, aren't you forgetting something?"

"None that I can remember. Come on, I really need to be home now."

"Give me your hand."

"What?"

"Just give me your hand."

Hillary offered her hand to the boy in impatience. "Okay, I don't understand what you want but if you would just hurry up and—" She stopped as Tyson took her palm with one hand and covered it with his other one. When he released it, the object resting in her palm made her gasp. "You're giving this to me? But I've made your life miserable for months."

"Well, true, you've been often mean to me, make me clean the classroom more often times than I can remember, love to beat the crap out of me and all… But hey." Tyson had that trademark goofy face on. "It's Christmas. I think we deserve to give each other a break for a change at this time of the year."

"Tyson… you…"

"Yeah. Besides… I like you."

A year ago. Before he left everyone.