Romance A Christmas Romance

[Lollobionda]

Christmas Day - At Martin's home


While Martin was preparing breakfast for himself and his son, he was in a better mood than he had been for a long time. All at once the veil of his sadness had lifted, like the fog that dissipates with the warmth of the sun and eventually disappears altogether. No, he hadn't forgotten Ashley, but somehow he felt he could finally let go.

He didn't know the woman from last night, but he had finally felt like a man again and had realised that he could approach other people, and especially women, and open up again. Maybe he would never see this woman again, he could not describe his feelings for her either, but she had triggered something in him that he had no longer expected. But what he knew was that now a new life would begin. A life in which Ashley was what she was: a life with the memory of a woman he had loved very much, but also a life in which he now knew that it would continue. Even without Ashley!

Almost unconsciously, he whistled one Christmas carol after another as he placed the plates, cups and cutlery on the table. Sometimes it was Chingle Bell, sometimes Silent Night. It didn't even matter to him that he couldn't whistle the whole carols, but only the well-known pieces from them. 

It was only his son who brought him back into the world: "Dad, you can whistle?!"

Surprised, Martin looked towards the door, where his little Filius was standing on the doorpost, staring at him with wide-open eyes. Martin's gaze fell on his pyjama trousers, which had slipped down a little and Norman was now standing with his heels on the waistband.

"Sure I can whistle," Martin said, not knowing which to smile more about. 

Of the surprised look and the question of his offspring, or of the picture Norman gave standing in the doorway.

"Come on, breakfast!"

"But Dad, I'm not allowed in my pyjamas..."

"You are today, it's Christmas!"

Norman looked at his father in wonder. 
Something was wrong with him. He hadn't seen his dad in such a good mood for a long time, and he had never dreamed that he would be allowed to have breakfast in his pyjamas.

Almost a little uncertainly, he crept up to his father, who had sat down on the chair in front of the table. As if he didn't quite trust the peace yet, he stopped once more in front of
in front of Martin and looked at him questioningly.

But immediately the two of them sat at the breakfast table and while Martin smeared the bread with lots of Nutella for his son, his son's mouth was already adorned with a wide strip of the cocoa that Martin had already placed on the table.

While he passed the bread over to his son's plate, he was already wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his pyjamas. Martin would dispose of the pyjamas in the washing machine later.

Hungrily, Norman reached for the bread, but before he took a bite, he put it back again, "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I had a dream about Mum today."

Martin looked over at his son. For a moment he thought he would be overcome by grief again, but then all that remained was a quiet but pleasant thought of remembrance and gratitude.

"So, what did you dream about her?"

"Mum was in my bedroom saying that she was looking after us and that she knew we still loved her very much."

"She's probably right about that!"

"Yes, but then she said that I shouldn't be sad any more because otherwise she's sad too and that she'd rather we were really great fun too. Then she's happy too. And that daddy is sure to find me a very dear mummy again soon. "

Norman looked at his father uncertainly and a small tear ran down his cheek before it silently fell onto the fabric of his pyjamas.

Martin looked at his son questioningly. All of a sudden everything was different again. All of a sudden there was that lump in his throat again and he himself had trouble holding back his tears. He knew there was a fairy tale in which the dead mother asks her child not to cry any more. Had Norman heard it somewhere? 

He couldn't remember anyone telling Norman this fairy tale. But then where had he got this idea from? Had he really dreamt it so easily?

But then he remembered the woman from last night. Im felt as if he too had met his wife as if in a dream.

"Norman!" Martin's voice was low and sounded uncertain now.

"I think I even met mum last night. She even gave me a kiss!"

Norman's eyes widened, "Really?!" 
His body trembled slightly and Martin saw the boy becoming restless.

"Come here, I think my lips are even warm!"

Slowly Norman slid wordlessly from his chair and slowly came around the table until he was standing in front of his father.

Martin took his son's small hand, took his index finger and placed it on his lips. Norman looked at him, puzzled and uncertain. Surely he didn't know what to make of all this, but he trusted his father, as children must trust their parents.


But then it seemed as if Norman actually felt something, because he let his finger slide slowly over his father's lips. Carefully, as if he didn't want to wipe away the warmth he thought he felt, he went back and forth without taking his finger from his father's lips.

But then it seemed to overwhelm the boy. He wrapped his arms around his father's neck and pressed himself tightly against his chest.

"But how...I mean...how can you meet mummy?" he whispered in his father's ear.

"Norman. It's Christmas and Christmas is a lot of things!"

Martin almost believed it himself. Something had happened that neither he nor his son could comprehend.

It took some time for the two of them to calm down. Afterwards, Martin cleared the dishes from the table and the two began to play with the toys that the Christ Child had brought. Norman was particularly fond of the pirate ship and boarded an old shoe box at least five times, on which he had painted a colourful flag to represent the treasure ship.

Only when Martin had to prepare lunch did he leave the boy alone again. 

While he began to let off steam in the kitchen, he remembered the woman's encounter and his boy's dream. Martin had absolutely nothing to do with esotericism or the supernatural, but could it all be coincidence? He tried to suppress it, but could not.

And when he had put Norman back to bed in the evening, his decision was made to visit the bench in front of the church again. He found the idea of waiting on a bench in the cold for a woman he had met there by chance the day before and who was also married completely idiotic and abstruse.
But what did he have to lose?

When he arrived, everything was quiet. The lamps cast their light on the path as they had the day before, making the snow glisten, while the lights on the garlands made their shadows flit dimly across the paths as they moved. He wondered if he shouldn't leave right away. He would surely be cold soon and catching a cold just because of a fantasy was a bit too stupid for him. The thought of having to explain to his doctor where he had caught the flu made him smile.

But then he settled down on the bench and decided to wait until exactly 11 p.m....

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