A George Bailey heart.

There is a dose of George Bailey's spirit in my heart skipping through Bedford Falls in the snow. Clarence accompanies me, while I chose, wrap and post my love to the best of friends so far from here. I mull the wine, roast the gigantic chestnuts and steam them with rice while stirring the thick pudding and wishing for closeness. I woodcut print a hybrid Fuji-san Christmas pudding card, Japan-style, alongside my love. We blow the cobwebs from the handmade decorations, found in a boot box; choose a dead twig and dress it in paper globes, cat collar bells and cardboard stars. 

Red Poinsettia's frame each florists, showing off, vying to be scooped up and cycled home, to be installed in Christmas.  Artificial silver trees compete against the last of Autumn's golden glow, while neon pinkness overwhelms the tinniest eyes.  Jack frost isn't nipping noses, there's just a bitter hint of winter in the wind. Legs lined in thermals, palms warmed in palms, we keep our heat from the Kotatsu and dare each other to venture to the kitchen. We sip sencha and nibble imported dark chocolate while kanji characters dance in our minds. Christmas lives here in this tatami room, sandwiched between crisp seaside light and a whistling musical breeze.  May each day of the last of this year be full of warmth and love.