The following guest post is written by a Chamonix-based artist whose skills I greatly respect. All characters are totally fictitious and I have no idea what lussekatter is but I dig the guy’s story, so here you go…
We Swedes celebrate Christmas on the evening of the 24 !! Normally you would give a beloved person a Christmas gift in the early morning hours. If you are lucky and got her the right present as the morning gift there will be endless laughter and joy throughout this very special day,you might even get the chance to escape, even if only for a few minutes, the turbulence of the sometimes very stressed house. Its nice for the two of you to cuddle up in your warm and cosy bed. Then back in to the kitchen, helping out with the usual things only you two can feel the joy of your romance. Every time your eyes meet there is a sparkle.
On the other hand when things go horribly wrong no power is strong enough to hold back the anger of your disappointed little Swedish loved one. She will furiously put her bathrobe on. Belt way to tight around her thin waist, two large steps and she is out of your warm and decorated bedroom. You want to call her name but hestitates since sisters and family are all gathered out there in the kitchen. You get dressed quickly and walk out to join the others. Coffee,gingerbread and lussekatter are all freshly baked,its offcourse grandmothers old recipe. Every body are cheerfull and the room is filled of warmnes,not only from the big fire place. But no contact can be made with your darling. She seems happy though a she speaks and laughs with the others. When you finally manage to get a little eye contact you fetch a glance of a cold hell. The hairs on your back stands right out and a shiver down your spine paralyze any move you would like to do. She turns around to the others and cheers them a happy Christmas morning.
You get an emediate feeling of being alone. You know that no one should feel alone on Christmas day and you realize thats a feeling none the better. You try to shake it of and walk in to the next room where the men are gathered. But there are no one to be found.
Outside through the window you can see the young lads having a snowball fight and on the other side of the yard her brothers are collecting the wood that their father is cutting. What happened, I use to be the one out there throwing snowballs and carrying wood for the fire place,you say to yourself. After alittle while which feels like ages when all old Christmases passes through your head you turn around to walk back into the kitchen almost stumbling over the wheel chair which carries her grand grandfather. You did not see him earlier but he was there all right. With a smile on his old wrinkled face he looks up at you but you are not really sure that he can see you. “Oooohh, boy. I am still sitting out here while grandma is in there cooking,” whispers the old man.
-Story by kzxc