He gifted me a perpetual Advent calendar
Sturdy wooden structure
Endlessly reusable.
Snow, bells, bows and gingerbread.
Cheery, hand-painted holiday scenes
Bedeck each daily box
That serve to celebrate
The season of anticipation.
Surely, infinite premade calendars exist.
But he could not entrust any
To produce the results
He envisioned.
So he compiled his own.
He had procured
At great expense, I surmise
Twenty four
Precious Bon bons
Cubes and batons of
Luxury confections
From my favorite artisan chocolatier in the world —
Venchi.
He had stood
In front of three walls
Each displaying a counter to ceiling grid
Of lucite containers.
At each transparent vessel
He had paused, read the label
Digested the description, and assessed.
Again and again, he contemplated.
As he proceeded, he had
Tenderly and precisely selected
Each foil wrapped
Celebration
To tuck inside each
Awaiting Advent cavity.
I do wonder
How long it took him
To discern
Which twenty four treats
he should bring home
From the more than two hundred fifty varieties
At his fingertips.
All month, I marveled at
The pleasing friction
As I dragged open
Each day’s drawer,
Heavy with splendor
To reveal the next
Italian truffle.
By December 6, though,
I already realized
That even one delight a day
Was too rich;
I could not keep pace.
So while I opened each day
Like clockwork,
And reveled in each new surprise,
I have rationed my bounty.
Which is why
On this sub-freezing dawn
In early January
I am here
With a Cuban coffee in one hand
And a Chocoviar in another.
A Christmas miracle
My joy has outlasted
The confines of a month.
I am riding
Through the flavor journey
Of salty, sumptuous Piedmont pistachios
And crackly deep, dark chocolate shell
And crunchy creamy orbs.
As the cocoa fat and salty sweet creme
Slick and heady
Coat my teeth,
Melt on my tongue and
Drip down my throat,
I reflect on my true gift.
His love for me
Like my refillable calendar
Is perpetual.
