Butterflies in November

SIXTY-THREE

This is how the darkest day of the year begins: a new light has filtered through the pallid, rainy sky of the past weeks, and a cloud resembling a crown has formed.

“Like a tooth,” says the boy pointing at his gaping mouth.

It must be a sign to herald in the wonderful beginning of the shortest day of the year. Just before noon, the heavens raise their black blanket and the sun horizontally pierces through the window in a narrow pink streak, like the thin line between the drooping eyelids of a sleeping woman. I contemplate myself and the home in the reflection of the window. The Christmas gifts from the co-op are ready and wrapped on the table, and the cards have been decorated and adorned with glitter. Little overlapping handprints are visible on the window, a slew of sticky fingers stamped on the glass. Soon, everything will revert back to normal again: snow drifts, ice, closed mountain roads — once more the country will be as white and odourless as it should be. We sit out on the deck with hot chocolate and our faces tilted towards the first ray of sunshine in two months.

There is actually no need to drive around the whole country, half a circle is more than plenty.

“Three men,” says the boy.

“Three men what?”

“Around the table.”

He points at a drawing he is completing. In the middle of the table there is a woman who clearly has green eyes and short dark hair.

“My hair has grown,” I laugh, I’ve changed. Now I look at the world through long bangs.

Santa Claus turns up at midday, dressed in civvies. The dog has been found, unhurt but a nervous wreck. He is carrying an accordion that he asks me to take to the city to be repaired. He’ll pick it up fairly soon, he says. I tell him of my plans to travel abroad.

“I don’t know for how long,” I say.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he says. “I certainly don’t.”

“I’ll be a bit busy to begin with, then I’ll certainly be in touch and look you up.”

There’s no hurry, plenty of time ahead and vast expanses of sand. Then I add, clearly feeling my heart beat as I say it:

“I need to go on my own first, then we can go somewhere together, if we still want to.”