I can smell something in the air. I don’t know what to call it. It’s sweet with a hint of sour and rough with the glaze of caramel. It runs smooth but is tough to get down. Almost like any sort of medicine that’s grape flavored, but this flavor wasn’t grape. It wasn’t even purple. The tastes greens and red mixed with silver and golds flooded everywhere I went. Now I’m sure once you can start tasting colors you must be going mad, but it seems like everyone was going mad in this place too. Most of all me.

There is no fire to gather around, because then the tree would burn ablaze. No mistletoe hanging, because I’m positive every little kid would be scream “Ewwww”. It feels like something joyful is in the air, but everyone holds their breath. Waiting for something, and I don’t think it’s Saint Nick. Maybe it’s for the baby to start crying and cause a scene, because of how loud every room is except for the bone aching frost of the outside. Maybe it’s for the little kid to start screaming, because they didn’t get the first present. Perhaps it’s for someone to argue with their parents about their family grudge, because they spilled the mash potatoes everywhere that one time. Or maybe they wait for me to talk to all the family members that I don’t recognize or haven’t seen in years.

Something is air, and it hangs like mistletoe. No not the one that the children are gagging at, but the one that offers a surprising kiss. A cold kiss that is. It means well, but the sting isn’t for everyone. Yet it still stings everyone. I can’t seem to find it’s origins. The best way I can describe it is that it tastes like eggnog. I don’t know about you, but I personally enjoy it. It’s a sour taste with a smooth and sweet run. Although I cannot describe its ingredients all I know is that it makes me feel...something. It’s a bittersweet thing during christmas, but you know what they say, “there’s no place like home.”

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