DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. This story's only intention was to show a way two holidays could be blended together and no disrespect is meant to either.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
As Santa Lights the Menorah
By Erin Griffin
I woke up with a start when I felt a jab in my stomach. I glared at the culprit, but she wasn't even awake. I let out a small huff as I got my bearings, and then I got up to put on my robe, given to me by Rory on the third night of Hanukah. As I fit my arms though the robe's sleeves, I tried to shake myself out of the dream I'd had the night before. I couldn't remember all of the details; I just know that I got hit in the face with a snowball, thrown by a little brunette girl who got her pitching arm from her mother. The dream otherwise seemed to fade as soon as I woke up. I looked at the clock and saw that I still had a good forty five minutes before I even had to worry about getting up, but seeing the position my wife's stray limbs had taken, I knew that I had no chance of gaining any part of the bed back that morning. I watched as she snuggled deeper into my pillow and wrapped herself up in the part of the blanket I had been under just a moment ago. I tiptoed through the condo, being as quiet as I could. I never knew why I was always so cautious about waking Rory. That girl could sleep through an earthquake. Only the scent of freshly brewed coffee (preferable from Luke's) could ever wake her up.
I looked up suddenly at the jolly fat man lighting our house. As always, my eyebrows rose at the sight of him, standing with a candle in his hand. When Rory found it at a garage sale, she felt she just had to get it. A month a half ago, she found a menorah light decoration and tweaked the two so that it looked as if Santa Clause was lighting the menorah. She was so proud of herself, and I didn't have the heart to tell her how ridiculous it looked to me. Once she told me that she had hopes of spending the holidays together instead of us visiting respective family to celebrate our own tradition like we had been doing the previous years as a couple. Since then, I hadn't really found it so ridiculous, now that I see what it represents.
As I got a pot of coffee ready, I brought in the newspaper and looked through it, shaking my head when I saw the latest layout of the front page. I was also disappointed at the subject matter of what had gotten front page. Who cared, really about some celebrity's misadventures at some dance club? What about the rising hope for a better economy? The technology recently manufactured that could help replace some of the ozone layer? What about that mysterious vigilante in Kansas who is stirring things up at The Daily Planet? I sighed and rolled my eyes, skipping to the stock pages. I had just opened the section when I saw that the coffee was ready, and as I had suspected, Rory was up as well. She had a full on pout on her lip, and I smiled at her in encouragement. "You enjoy torturing me," she pouted, staring longingly at the coffee pot. I stood up and kissed her on the cheek, and then I placed a hand on her growing stomach.
"You're the one who wanted to carry the baby, and you remember that conversation?"
"The one where you told me that I would have to give up coffee for nine months? Yeah, I think I was half awake during that conversation."
"You're having the next one." Rory told me, and I grinned at that.
"And you can rub in the fact that I can't have coffee all you want."
"Except it wouldn't work as well because you drink teas more. It won't be as agonizing."
"I wouldn't say that. Ever since I got this job, coffee's been the only thing that has kept me going." I said. Rory seemed to still want to pout, so I added in, "Of course, coming home to you is quite nice, too."
"Quite," Rory said, but she smiled, her eyes glittering. I never understood until a few months ago that glow people always accused pregnant women of having, but I could see it so clearly on Rory. "So... orange juice it is, then," she said. I nodded, and she kissed me on the top of my head before she went to the refrigerator before I could offer to get her any. Tired of the newspaper, I instead turned on the morning news, and though they too seemed to want to talk about the celebrity, at least the weather, sports, stock, and traffic reports scrolled along the bottom. I walked over to the couch, following after Rory, who snuggled into its cushions and then me as soon as I sat down. As Santa lit the menorah, we watched the morning news, and in my opinion, I thought it was one of the best mornings ever.
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