Three days before Christmas, I told her,
“I know what I want for Christmas.”
She stopped and gazed down at me –
looking for a smirk, a smile, a grin, or a twinkle in my eye.
Was it a joke or was I having her on?
I stared up at her, suppressing my smirk, my smile, and my grin.
I did have a twinkle in my eye at the moment,
as I was having her on and I was enjoying it,
but in fact, I was not having her on
in the way that she thought.
I knew that I shouldn’t, I couldn’t, ask for a Christmas gift this late.
The wheels turned in her mind as she pondered what to say, then replied,
“Oh, great!”
I assumed it was sarcasm, but I let her sit for a bit and decide
if she wanted to say more, to break the spell, or to call me an idiot,
but she did not.
She had informed me earlier that she bought me a Christmas gift,
so I had her make out a list for me.
But she forgot, or thought I did, but I did not, forget, that is.
I said,
“I cannot remember the last time you made Gazpacho. That’s what I want.
A bowl of Gazpacho, with some crackers or bread, and butter to spread.”
Then I smirked, smiled, and grinned as we whiled away the afternoon, alone and together.