The Great Before. Even Before the During and Trying.

We will remember this weekend. I want to remember this weekend and all of those just like it. 

This is the one when we decorated the tree. We do it earlier each year. Why not allow magic to happen before its seasonally scheduled time? I’ll be out of town next weekend. Let’s do it now, we decided. Even a little early by our standards. We planned to decorate yesterday and brought the box labeled Christmas up from its 10 month home in the basement. But we were both tired and instead ate our takeout at the dining table. We don’t use the dining room table enough. I tell you I wish we would use it more. And I do, but I love our coffee table living room dinners. They’re cozy and conversational, too. You offer from time to time to set the table and dine with taper candles, but only half the time I agree. I’d rather sit on the floor with my back against the couch, legs crossed, glass filled, laughing about nothing and something with you. 

I love our no plans and then how the nothingness can become something of a huge event in one quick exchange of words. Friday, the second to last one in November, was not our tree decorating night. “Tomorrow,” we said. You, me, and a pot of coffee will tackle the tree.

And so we did. I slept in until 9:00. You woke up early to give our cat his medicine. And I came downstairs to a pot of coffee and a dancing fire warming our space. You were unusually hungry for the morning and mentioned you ate a slice of leftover Lou Malnatti’s. Your few times per year indulgent favorite deep dish. You asked if I wanted to make an egg bake, and how can I turn that down? 

The box of ornaments sat in the dining room and I mentioned a few times how I knew we had another green box filled with Christmas goods. “Maybe in the attic,” I added. I mentioned it again in hopes of you grabbing it instead of me.

I suggested we give the egg bake a crust using the seasonal Trader Joe’s puff pastry. I bought 4 when I was there last. I heard a woman nearby rave about them and I knew I had to try them and I figured my mom would love it, too. “It’s hard to find a pre-made dough without preservatives in it,” she’d say. And so I bought 4 which was really 8 portions of dough. And you said that’s why you can’t really get behind Trader Joe’s. All that seasonal stuff. All that hype. It’s too much. You like consistency in grocery stores. I like that I know this and 8 billion other things about you. But I’m also still getting to know you.

I took out a sleeve of dough and rolled it out and cut a slice off big enough to line the bread pan. You mixed the eggs and sliced the onions and mushrooms and heated up the soyrizo. A sigh — I know — it’s not the real stuff. But it isn’t bad either. It happily fools me and humors you. We agree it should be heated once through. And seasoned. Rather than slightly bland red crumbles. 

We put the bake in the oven. We’ll decorate after we eat, we decided. I don’t think it will happen, but I roll with it. And we open the oat milk egg nog and pour it into our coffees. Oat milk egg nog. Another sigh? But you think it sounds more appetizing than the real dairy deal. I said I wanted to save it until I got home from my family Thanksgiving reunion in Orlando. Once opened, you need to consume in 7 days. I take this timeline seriously. I’m still fooled by literal food expiration dates. The stock images of bacteria blown up to 16 x 24 inch posters really did a number on me. I can’t have bacteria in my oat nog and then “in” me. 

But we open it before I leave to celebrate nothing. Nothing is so good. Our egg bake came out perfectly. We watched Christmas movies all day, but none of the classics. The second to last Saturday in November is too early for a classic Christmas movie. We agreed Hallmark and tier-two holiday movies were ok to binge. The decoration box was opened and the other green box I mentioned a time or three soon made its way into the living room from wherever you found it. 

On our first trip together we bought an ornament. It was a ceramic green bobblehead cactus with big eyes and cowboy hat that read “Arizona” across the bottom. We dated the bottom 2014 and decided every trip we took would include an ornament souvenir. Surprisingly, we haven’t had a trip without an ornament purchase since that first mutual plan. Some ornaments are legit and purchased at tourist stops, others have been keychains or small knickknacks rigged to become tree decorations. Each ornament dated on the bottom. We each have our favorites collected over our 8 years together and we take turns hanging our memories onto metal branches and plastic needles. I won’t buy us an ornament in Orlando. You won’t be there with me. Solo trips don’t hang the way shared destinations do. 

Pauses were met by Spotify Christmas playlists and the egg bake pan then becoming the banana bread pan. I tried my moms “I just winged it” banana bread recipe she sent via text. It wasn’t as good as hers was. The leftover pastry dough then became a late afternoon kitchen experiment. 

Our tree was perfect. I added in the stuffed elf legs decoration we found in the green bin you brought down from the attic. I almost didn’t add them to the tree, but I’m glad I did. Our tree is filled with personal memory and chaos and very little department store bliss. I like it this way. You won’t find it on display anywhere but in our home. 

The sun was setting and I still wanted to wax my armpits. I have a rotation I’m trying to maintain here. You get it. And you’ll play video games while I do this. Let’s take a walk after? It’s 3:30 already. Let’s go now. I turned off my wax pot, checked it two or three times, and we headed out with spiked cider held in gloved hands. We walked to the lake and watched the sun and water fade from pink and blue to gray. 

We came home to Fez and Mia. I waxed my armpits. You played video games. You were done before I was. I came down to the fire still going. The coals are so hot. “Look at that!” you said, “all from just adding another log.” And you yell out to me, “There will be more new floats at the Thanksgiving Day Parade this year!” You know I love that parade. It kicks off the holidays for me. It’s my Disney adult moment. And I wish you could be with me on Thanksgiving but I love your heart and appreciate you staying home to be with our sweet sick kitty Fez and Mia. Her birthday! 6 years old the day before Thanksgiving. She was your 26th birthday present. You didn't want a cat, but you can’t refuse a gift. Now you love two cats. If Mia were human, she would be actual kindergartener. Imagine when we have a kid, an actual child, in kindergarten. Imagine us at parent teacher conferences. Imagine it. 

That’s what we do now. Think, Imagine, Dream, share our future desires. Because it will be here someday. And we’ll use the dining table as chairs become filled. We’ll look at each other across the table and remember when we sat on the floor of our living room with wine glasses full and slept in the next morning only to be met with personal possibility. 

This is The Great Before. The happiest in-between. The days filled with nothings and somethings and dreams and speculations. It’s so great to be here with you. 

In a few days, I’ll be in Disney with my family celebrating my first holiday without you since 2013. I’m like a child again before I have my own. And you’ll be here in our home. You’re already excited to make the cats their own turkey breast and lounge around all weekend. You’re ready for a few days of blissful solitude and injecting cat medicine. Keep the fire going, keep the coals hot. Save me a spot at the coffee table. I’ll be home soon.