Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
An Advent Calendar - 15. Door#15 - Così
Così
When I was a kid, I didn’t believe in Santa but the Christ Child (Christkind). I imagined her/it being some kind of über-angel with curly, golden hair, blue eyes, wearing a long white dress and always barefoot. I even asked my mother if she/it wouldn’t freeze with having cold feet all the time. Her answer was that the Christkind flies, her feet would never touch the ground and therefore she wouldn’t have cold feet. From then on I hopped around, placed my feet on chairs and tables, telling my mother I didn’t need socks, because my feet wouldn’t touch the ground. I already hated wearing socks back then. But I digress.
We got our presents on Christmas Eve, not Christmas morning. The day always started with a family breakfast. My father would go to the bakery and buy special rolls, croissants, and pastry. As always, my mother told us not to go into the living room. The Christkind would come today and was not to be disturbed, otherwise it would just fly away, and we wouldn’t get any presents.
Usually around noon, the Christkind came around. How did we know this? There was always a big flash of light, which lit up the entire garden, and Christmas music came from the living room. The ultimate proof: glitter on the stairs.
Our task of the day was to clean our rooms, which were in the attic. The living room was on the second floor and the kitchen on the first. As the cleaning supplies were in the kitchen, we ran down the stairs for every single item, so we could try the handle—of course the door was locked-- and even peer through the keyhole. It was a very old lock, to be used with a skeleton key, so we might have had a chance to finally see the Christkind, if she/it hadn’t stuck a silver star on it from the inside. One time I pressed my ear against the door and excitedly told my siblings, I could hear the rustling of paper and someone was humming to the music.
In the late afternoon we all took showers and dressed in our best clothes. By then, Mom had everything prepared in the kitchen for dinner, which was always a light meal, because we would have a feast on Christmas day. Around six pm, my aunt and uncle and cousins came, and we could finally sit down to have dinner. The children fidgeted in their seats, finishing off their meal in record time, while the adults had another glass of wine, some more cheese, one more Christmas cookie, until finally, finally a bell sounded and all bets were off. We ran upstairs, my sister slammed the door open, and I was hot on her heels. The room was dark, except for the twinkling Christmas tree. Bach’s Christmas Oratorio sounded in the background, and the table was heaping with presents. Every child had its own corner. I knew exactly where mine was.
I was five when I got my very own Steiff Teddybear. Exactly the one I always wanted, an older version. I very carefully lifted him from the pile of presents he sat on and wrapped him into my arms. From that point on, I wasn’t interested in the other presents anymore. I hugged him, and petted him, and finally detected his nametag. ‘Cosy’. I read it out loud, and my dad launched in a long winded explanation that cozy was English for gemütlich. I didn’t really listen. Instead, I told him Christkind’s helpers had forgotten to write down my bear’s last name. Clearly amused, my dad asked what the bear’s last name was. I didn’t think it was funny. It was very clear to me that my bear’s last name was fan Tutte. I hadn’t known that Così fan tutte was the name of a Mozart opera of course. I think I heard it somewhere and just remembered. Anyway, Così fan tutte went everywhere with me. He was a wonderful listener. Never complained about the wild stories I told him, or that I asked him to help me with my math problems. He was there for every exam I ever took. (Hidden in my backpack, because it was slightly embarrassing to lug my childhood plush bear around. Right?)
Yes, yes, I admit it. I still have him. He sits in the closet (lol) behind my dress shirts. And I take him with me on long journeys. He still is my talisman.
- 17
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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