My friendship for Harry is laying on green grass on a hazy summer afternoon, hot chocolate in winter and swing sets at the park... But my love for Harry is poetry written by hand in leather journals, dried flowers pressed into novels and open button...
Thank you for reading! It makes me so happy you're enjoying this!
Christmas weekend went by smoothly aside from the thumping headache I endured as a result of one too many drinks the night prior. The sight of both our families combined fills me with joy I couldn't begin to explain. Seeing everyone laugh together and exchange gifts surfaces nothing but pure happiness. Especially after so long.
"I got you something." Harry says shyly, placing a large rectangle wrapped in brown paper, sealed with a thin twine ribbon at the top onto the oak coffee table in front of me.
"Harry that's very kind, you didn't have too!" I say fiddling with my hands in my lap.
I'm embarrassed I didn't get him a present. I didn't even know he was coming home.
"Harry..." I say as he takes a seat beside me on the lounge.
"I know, it's okay! Really, it's perfectly okay. You didn't know I'd be here and being with you for the next few days is more than anything I can ask for." He says blushing at me.
Days. His word echoes in my mind. I wish it were for longer. As excited as I am to get back to working and go to the film premiere, I wish I could bask in this moment forever.
I look over at Dad and Anne smiling at us with wide grins.
"Are you two ok?" I say laughing.
"Oh! Don't mind us, just opening our own presents." Dad says as he passes Anne a beautifully wrapped present, Dad always loved Christmas wrapping. I was around nine years old when I realised Santa wasn't real because I woke up to Mum and Dad giggling at how rubbish Mum was at wrapping gifts.
I think Christmas brings her back to Dad and that's why he loves it so much.
I begin to tear at the large present as it lay in front of me, my shoulder softly brushing against Harry's. I feel warm and tingly in the spot he touches. The paper comes undone and I open the paper down the centre causing it to spread and expose the gift to me.
I feel tears well in my eyes when I am met with an A3 framed photograph of Mum and Dad playing soccer together. The photo displays landscape and Mum looks beautiful. Her blush pink dress falling above her knees as her olive-green painted nails, shipped at the sides, wave in the air keeping her balance. Her smile beams so brightly as her eyes focus on the ball. Her dark curls swaying over her shoulder as she moves. I look at my Dad who wears a white tee shirt and maroon shorts, his gaze on the ball with her with a concentrated expression. They look to be my age.
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"Harry..." I begin gliding my index finger above the glass, careful not to touch it.
"I got here a few days before you did and when I realised you would be here; I couldn't help but get you this enlarged on a print." He says looking down at me with a gentle smile.
