Saturday, December 24, 2016
Written by: Dizzy
Hurrying along the snowy path, Saul suddenly slipped and found himself looking up at the darkening sky. Lying still for a moment, he took stock of his body. Lifting his arms one at time-both working. Then wiggling each leg-both in working order. Clenching butt cheeks-yes, still sore, but not from the fall. His sore butt was from the hands of his Top. His Top who knew the quickest way to stop Saul's temper from spiraling out of control.
He'd feel the effects of the fall in the morning, but no broken bones. Carefully getting back on his feet, Saul walked a little more slowly. He would make it back to the cabin by nightfall. That was all that mattered.
The lights shining through the windows and the smoke coming from the chimney was a feeling of homecoming. It wasn't the cabin that was home, but what waited for him there. Stepping on to the wooden porch, he cautiously stomped his feet. The snow that had packed on his boots fell off in clumps. Saul grabbed the broom that stood at attention next to the door. A few quick swipes and the snow was swept into the small yard.
Using his teeth to pull off his gloves, he used his bare hands to open the door. The warmth of the room swelled over him; beckoning him inside. Twirling his scarf from around his neck, Saul gave it a toss. Smiling as the scarf landed on the coat tree, he unbuttoned his coat, shoved his gloves in the pockets and then hung it up.
Walking into the small living room, Saul smiled. There on a small table sat the menorah. Even though it wasn't yet lit, the menorah seemed to glow in the late afternoon. It had been a gift from his mother the first year he'd lived on his own. She'd died before he could use it that year, but each year since, he'd used it with her memory in his mind.
This year was no different. They may not be at home, but Saul would keep the traditions his mother and taught him. The menorah was on the left side of the room in front of one of the large windows. Saul's smile widened. Placing the menorah in front of a window was one of the traditions that Saul had grown up with.
"I have the shamash and the first candle," Jerome said softly.
Turning around, Saul saw Jerome, his husband, standing awkwardly holding out two candles.
"I have matches too," he continued.
The love and hesitancy glowed in the Top's eyes. Jerome was always a bit unsure of himself when it came to his Brat's customs, even after thirty years. Saul fell more deeply in love with the man that he'd been married to for so long. Reaching out, Saul took Jerome's hand and led him to the table.
Saul placed the first candle in the first holder. Jerome reverently lit the shamash and handed it to Saul. His hand brushed Jerome's as he took the candle. Looking up into his Top's eyes, he gave a small smile of reassurance. Their eyes may have lines, their hands sun spots, but Saul still felt like a giddy young man around Jerome. Turning to the menorah, Saul touched the flame to the first candle.
Softly the two men recited the three blessings that started the holiday. Once the blessings were recited, Saul softly started to sing Ma'oz Tzur. The homecoming Saul felt earlier swelled even more when Jerome's deep baritone voice joined his own. Chanukah had been something new for Jerome, having been raised Christian. But in this small cabin in Maine, Jerome helped Saul carry out the tradition. On Christmas Eve, Saul would return the favor and attend candlelight services with Jerome.
As the sun set outside and the candle glowed brightly inside, Saul gave a silent prayer to whoever was watching over them. The prayer was one of thanksgiving. Thanking the deity for traditions and for the man who stood beside him.