Last year I watched It's A Wonderful Life for the first time and ever since it's made Christmas feel a little more special. It's been something extra to look forward to as November rolled around; another small thing I've wanted to share with my love and another new tradition I've wanted to start.
So yesterday we found ourselves, on a double date, grabbing the last few seats at our favourite city cinema. I was the only one who'd seen it before and I was nervous. I simply wanted everyone to like it.
(And the old man we talked to outside the cinema did, too. James Stewart, he told us, was his absolute idol, coincidentally stationed in our city during the war).
They fell in love with it, of course. Who wouldn't? It is frilled with magic and I don't think it ever, really, dates.
Last night I didn't think I was going to cry, either. But I did. At exactly the same scene as last year--and probably next year, too.
It's taken me a few days to catch up on the sleep I lost at the very tail end of last week. It was kind of a rush to get things done; to have assignments handed in and presents made and diaries pretty much cleared. (And maybe, just maybe, to have a whole gingerbread house collapse on my hand and a bus full of angry people scorn at my bags. Of presents.)
But I was lucky enough to spend Friday with a handful of my favourite ladies. We got to celebrate Christmas by cooking up a storm in their tiny galley kitchen and playing trivial pursuit around a table that barely fitted their front room. But d'you know what?
It was lovely. And very bittersweet.
I'd really, really like a Christmas every year with these girls.
I stayed up until four o'clock this morning, working on a short story for class.
...and then, when I woke up properly, I scrapped pretty much every word on the page. Or I altered it, somehow. (And so it turns out, 5000 word short stories really aren't my thing).
Tonight, in the shower, I convinced myself I'd missed a deadline.
...and then I double-checked. I hadn't. (And so it turns out, these early morning stresses really aren't my thing).
I have never stressed this much about work and so I can't figure out if I am totally over this whole university thing or deeply, deeply in love with it. But I think having the opportunity at all is a pretty wonderful thing. (I know it is).
As stressful and as frustrating as the last few weeks' have been, they have also been lovely. There has been a lot to write home about, you know. Like the warmest of snuggles and watching Elf with my sister, and last night, having the nicest conversation with a new, dear friend.
It's these things, these little things, that I'm holding pretty close right now.