Christmas, 2000 St. John, USVI
Last night, up the hill, we heard sweet strains of brazilian combo doing impression of Jobim+Astrud as we danced under the bougainvilla, aromatic and colorful under the night sky, a gentle breeze blew from an indeterminate direction and toussled our hair gently as we danced this Christmas eve, every detail within this moment perfect, from crickets chirping to the stars above twinkling blessings on a family as awkward as a three legged dog.
He’s a game fellow, warm hearted and full of fight, but he misses that lost limb.
Everything still seems a bit off-center, BJ is himself inscrutable, and it is impossible to tell what he wants and what he’s choosing to do in deference to Pam, or if in fact there is any difference but something tells me that they want to treat today as just any other day — no traditional Christmas symbols, no tree, no festive decorations, and although Santa came during the night and left a few gifts for the good boys and girls under the bougainvilla, Pam admonished him gently, without much delight, on their morning walk to find the source of that magical music that last night wafted down the hill, scented and aromatic, carrying with it a sad romance that affected me strongly somehow and thankfully, once shown, Anita responded as well, that’s not too surprising, for who would not, given the alluring nature of the place, but somehow we’re all slightly disconnected, our gears spinning at different speeds, and it would not have surprised me at all if, instead of wishing to dance under the stars to the strains of bossa nova, she had rather sat and gossiped with the girls.
But we danced slowly instead, silently pondering the bittersweetness of this season.