A Proposal for Christmas

The Proposal

Emma Swan had always been enchanted by the magic of Christmas ever since she was a young girl. There was something extraordinary about the way the holiday season transformed people. It brought out the best in everyone, not just kids, and while Santa might be credited for a good portion of it, Emma felt like there was something else at play– something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

As a child, Emma would stare in awe at the stunning displays of holiday lights and decorations on the streets, filling her with a sense of wonder and excitement. She loved how people seemed to come together during the season, sharing joy and warmth. As she grew older, she began to appreciate the season differently, noticing how it brought out qualities in people she didn't see the rest of the year.

Back when she was growing up with her mother, Ingrid, in Boston, Emma would play this game she made up with her where they would guess where the smiles on strangers' faces stemmed from: Were they on their way to see someone they loved? Did they just give or receive a fantastic gift? Perhaps it was something else entirely, but the possibilities were endless, and Emma loved it.

So when she moved to Storybrooke three years ago with her almost two-year-old son, Henry, to become the town's sheriff, Emma had been excited to experience the holidays in a new place and observe how the holidays affected others. And when their first Christmas in town came around, Emma had been taken aback by just how seriously Storybrooke took their holidays.

The town resembled something straight out of a children's book–the lamp posts lining the streets had been perfectly decorated with garlands and satin bows, every building adorned with twinkling lights and colorful wreaths, and snow covered every inch of the town. Emma couldn't help but be amazed at how picture-perfect the town was.

At first, Emma had found it odd how close everyone in town seemed to be. Everybody had a history together in one way or another, but she soon realized how much of a difference that made at gatherings (and in general). It had been refreshing seeing how the town came together to celebrate, everyone smiling and laughing with one another, sharing stories that seemed to include half the town.

She also came to learn that nothing the town did was ever simple. Every event was highly anticipated, each year rumored to top the next. When Emma moved to Storybrooke, it had been a year since the previous mayor, Cora Mills, resigned, and her daughter, Regina, took over. She had heard stories about the lengths Cora had gone through to outdo the previous year, like somehow managing to get Tony Bennet to perform at a Christmas Fundraiser or how the high school gym was turned into an ice skating rink for Ice Capades.

Even though she couldn't fairly compare the two women's events, Emma could tell Regina put her heart and soul into these projects, doing whatever she could to give her town a memorable experience, and tonight's Annual Christmas Tree Lighting would be no different. She and Henry had been looking forward to today for weeks, but completely different reasons.

While Henry was excited about the Santa's Village Regina had organized, where the kids could meet and take pictures with Santa, Emma was excited because she had something special planned, something that would make all future Tree Lighting ceremonies pale in comparison— at least in her opinion.

When she came up with the idea a couple of weeks ago, she was fine, ecstatic even. She couldn't wait for today, but now that's it actually here, well, she wished she hadn't taken those weeks for granted. She woke up that morning a sweaty, frantic mess, with her brain only functioning at twenty percent, and the uneasy curdling in her stomach was something she could live without.

Emma couldn't thank Mary Margaret enough when she stopped by and asked if Henry wanted to help her bake cookies for her preschool class. She all but shoved them out of the mansion, eager for a moment alone. She loved her son with all her heart and then some, but after being asked, 'Can we go now?' for the fiftieth time within the span of twenty minutes, Emma was on the brink of ripping her hair out.