A Spring Holiday, eh?

Mr. And Mrs. Williams sat together in the den of their historical home. They watched as the fluffy white clouds that dumped a fine dusting of snow melted away. The bright morning sun shone off the sparkling white winter wonderland, just beyond the public courtyard of their home. The snowcapped mountaintops popped off of the vibrant blue sky that framed the scene before them.

Mrs. Williams silently shook her head, as her angry grey eyes shifted from their view to Mr. Williams beside her.

He smiled fondly at his wife and then returned his gaze to the picturesque view that filled his heart with immeasurable joy.

“This is absolutely ludicrous,” she mumbled, her lips pursed together in annoyance, “I can’t believe that the staff has embraced this nonsense.” She added the fullness of her rage focused on the untimely white blanket outside.

“People look for joy amongst tragedy. Why not let them find a reason to celebrate? A reason to smile, when the times tell them otherwise.” Mr. Williams argued, his pale blue eyes watched his wife with pained curiosity.

“They’re calling it Christmas in July.” She muttered through a clenched jaw. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the arms of the chair in growing rage.

“I see no problem with-“

“It’s fucking May, for Christ’s sake!” She snapped, her cheeks rosy as she huffed a few ragged breaths, trying to remain composed.

“I admit it’s a little unorthodox but-“

“Unorthodox?” She interrupted, “This is complete insanity and I won’t stand for it. Piere is out trying to find a thirty-foot Balsam wood for the foyer, just like the ones we order for Christmas every year.” She muttered in a barely audible whisper. The muscles of her jaw flexed as she clenched it and let out another annoyed huff through her nose.

Another small smile broke across Mr. Williams’ weathered face. “Bless that man. He’s always been too good to me.” He muttered, returning his gaze to the view outside. His eyes twinkled with joy as he continued to admire the winterscape beyond their window.

“When you said you wanted one last holiday, I didn’t imagine this,” Mrs. Williams explained, with a gesture to the window. “I was thinking something more tropical,” she continued, the redness in her cheeks fading as her expression turned more solemn. Her sombre gaze returned to Mr. Williams with a glassy-eyed look of pity, her wrinkled lips turned down in sadness.

“The staff are setting up the screening room for after dinner. We were thinking of either a marathon of The Santa Clause series or The Home Alone series. Do you have a preference, my dear?” He inquired as he pulled his blissful gaze from the window.

“I’m afraid I won’t be joining you this evening,” she muttered and rose from her chair. Mrs. Williams sighed with an air of disappointment, took a few steps, and paused. “Goodnight Bill.” She bid him, and the click of her heels echoed down the hall until they faded into the distance.

Mr. Williams simply remained in his chair, now humming his favourite Christmas carol to himself. A small smile stretched across his face as his pale blue eyes continued to admire the view before him, his knee bounced happily to the tune of jingle bells.

Just like the springtime snow, Mr. Williams knew he wouldn’t remain in this world much longer and in that moment, he cared not what the world thought of him, but what was in his own heart. For he knew that as long as he carried joy with him, even death itself could not take what mattered most to him.

His love for the mysteries of the world around him.

Author’s Note:

The idea for this story was based on the above photo (taken by me). It came when I saw Mackenzie’s Send Me Another Photo Challenge.

As I chose my photo and several others for another prompt she is doing, the idea for this story suddenly struck me. So I hope you enjoyed my oddly timed holiday story. Thank you for reading!

- Donna Fox (HKB)