Peintures vivantes - Joseph Descamps

Noël

As soon as I wake up, I realise that the long-awaited day has arrived. I stretch in bed and sit up, with a light heart and a carefree feeling in my head. As I get ready to go downstairs and exchange presents with my family, I look in the mirror and my lips are still rosy.

Yesterday's kiss with Joseph triggered desires and thoughts I never had before. I think I love him. I smile at myself in the mirror, thinking back to his hands behind my back and our embrace. "Romy? Are you awake?" my mother calls to me from the kitchen. "Yes, coming." I answer her. I adjust my pyjamas, gather my hair into a messy bun and go downstairs.

Everyone is already in the living room. "Merry Christmas!" they say in chorus, showing me the gifts grouped near the crib. Marion runs to hug me, and so does Clotaire. "Merry Christmas, Romy," Clotaire tells me, kissing my forehead. After we exchange all kisses and good wishes, I sit on the carpet, near the lit fireplace. I watch the paper of the gift wrappings sway in rhythm with the flames.

There are five gifts in all, beautifully wrapped and brightly coloured. One gift for each member of our family. Like every year, we have all taken care of making the presents for each member together, so that the gift is well thought out and special.

"Here, sweetheart. This is yours." My father says, handing the gift package to Clotaire. "Thanks dad," he thanks him, starting to unwrap the gift; as is his wont, Clotaire unwraps the presents very slowly, so as not to break the gift wrapping paper. The usual perfectionist. I see his eyes light up and his hands extract the gift from the paper.

An all-leather desk set, brand new. As he looks at it, he thanks us enthusiastically, running his fingertips over the dark wooden box. "Really, I love this set. I thank you from the bottom of my heart!"

"Mom, it's your turn!" says Marion excitedly, placing the gift in our mother's lap. After stroking her face as only she knows how, she opens the gift and is moved. "My god, you guys. Thank you! It's wonderful!" We decided to give her a beautiful gold necklace with a sea-blue sapphire pendant as a gift.

I get up from the carpet and help her put it on, under the satisfied gaze of my father, sitting next to her. "It has the colour of your eyes Maude," my dad confesses to her, placing a kiss on her cheek. I see her blush and smile.

"Dad. Discard!" Clotaire incites him, tossing him a dark little box. After letting out a big laugh under his moustache, he opens it and euphorically pulls out a brand new pipe. "Finally! Mine is older than me now!" he thanks us laughing.

"Well, now it's my turn!" says Marion enthusiastically, unwrapping her gift, personally chosen by me. And I can consider myself proud of the choice of the gift, which was very apt in my opinion. On the cover of the book, in gold, is engraved the title: Nanà, by Emile Zola. Marion has always loved reading, and appreciates Zola's stories very much.

"I am astounded! Knowing me, it will surely be finished by tomorrow!" she says laughing and clutching the book to her chest. Now there is only one gift left; and it is the biggest. Mine.

"Romilda, this is yours," my father says, handing me the gift and placing a kiss on my cheek. His thick bass tickles my face. I unwrap it carefully, anxious to find out what is under the gift wrapping paper, but find in my hands a clear cardboard box. I give my parents and siblings a confused look, and open the box, only to find a brand new violin inside, accompanied by the bow.

As I carefully take it out of the box, tears of joy well up. I gently run my fingers over the polished wood of the violin, observing the grain of the material, which has been carefully worked out in every detail. I pluck the strings and take the bow in my hand. "Now you can finally play your own personal violin. Mine is now old honey." My mother tells me.