Hazel - Tradition

“Come on!”

When Hazel beckoned me forward that day, there was something magical in the air. A funny thing to observe, really, considering that we lived in a realm of magic and my girlfriend was a witch. But I supposed I wasn’t really supposed to talk about that since the Velvet Guard still had this penchant about pretending all magic was evil unless it benefitted them.  Taking Hazel’s hand, I followed her blindly out through the back door, hearing the bang of the wooden barrier as it slammed against the rickety cottage. We took the three steps down into the garden, ran out through the garden gate, and headed into the back area of the property where the creek shot through the land and an old wooden swing still hung, waiting for the ghost of youth to come play.

“What are we doing?” I asked, not really caring what the answer would be. Hazel was infectious when she was this happy. When the giddiness took over, everyone in her surroundings couldn’t help but feel a piece of the same joy.

“It’s happening tonight,” she said. “It always happens around Yule. I don’t know if it has to actually do with Yule or if it's because the longest night of the year is coming up.”

Stopping at the base of the hedge, the very one that separated her property and the burnt out alleyway beyond, Hazel searched around, finding little hand holds to start climbing upwards.

“Is the longest night of the year really a thing in a place called the Night Market?”

She stopped mid-climb, tipping her head to the side. ‘I hadn’t really thought of it like that before. I guess people still observe it because it’s what they did in other realms. Plus, the Yule Cat. Kind of hard to ignore Yule with Minnow roaming around.”

“The Yule Cat’s name is Minnow?”

“Yes. The sweetest little kitty you’ll ever find, too. I don’t understand why everyone is afraid of him.”

I could. The Yule Cat had a bad habit of eating people if they didn’t exchange clothes as gifts during the festive season. It was a strange tradition that ended in demise almost every year, and yet we all still joyously partook in it. It was the one part of living that I didn’t think I would ever really understand.

“Are you coming?”

She was halfway up the hedge when she called down to me, and I stepped forward to scramble after hear. The brambles creaked beneath my feet, a few of the hollow stems cracking at the added weight. But surprisingly, the hedge mostly held. The two of us climbed up, pulling ourselves higher than I thought the hedge actually was. When I looked down, the ground was far, far away and the journey ahead was beginning to reach the lantern line. And then, the stars.

“Here.” She reached out a hand for me when she got up to the top, her legs dangling over the side. Grasping her gloved hand, I let her pull me upwards, twisting myself around until I sat at the edge, mirroring her pose.  At first, I saw nothing. There was the plume of smoke from her chimney beyond, and the small shine from the little hill house that her and Malcolm had built as children. But then, something flashed over head, snagging my attention upwards.

The sky was normally filled with stars. Little poked holes in a fabricated curtain. But here, I could see a tear. It wasn’t anything big, but it was enough to see the flaps of torn fabric and the sky beyond. That was where my home originally had been. It felt like a lifetime ago now.

“Just wait,” Hazel said. She still had a hold of my hand, clutching it within her own.  When she scooted closer, her hips bumped against mine and I reached around her to hold her steady to my side. “Wait for it,” she muttered again, looking at the sky in anticipation.

I thought I knew everything about the night sky. From years of being a strange form flitting among the cosmos, to wandering it with Pen. I was certain there was nothing more up there that could surprise me. But then a brilliant flash of green shot across the dark like lightening. Followed by a heavy stroke of purple and incandescent blue. I felt my breath catch in my throat as they began bleeding together, like brushstrokes from some cosmic painter.

“Do you see it?” Hazel asked.

I nodded to her. In all the years I had been up there, not once had I seen such colors. The vibrancy. The way they danced. I could almost hear the notes of a song that had long been lost, coming to life for one more night.

“What is it?” I asked her.

Hazel leaned her head on my shoulder and I could feel her smile course through her entire body. “I don’t know. I found it when I was a child. By accident, of course. I was out here late one night, picking wild herbs, and I just happened to look up. I only ever see it this time of year.”

“I’ve never seen it,” I breathed.

“Isn’t that funny? You, the entire world, still have things to discover.”

I laughed a little. “I don’t know if I should find that funny or if I should question my own attention to detail.”

Hazel smacked me lightly before immediately trying to soothe away the pretend hurt. “No, don’t think of it that way. I think there is wonder in still being able to discover something new. It is the proof that there is always something worth living for. Even when it's dark. We just have to open our eyes from the habitual depression to see it.”

I raised a brow at her, looking down at the kinky head of hair and the dancing lights in her own soft gaze. “That’s new,” I told her.

She hummed a bit. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this holiday season. And I think I tend to see the bad more than the good. But pretend to see the good more than the bad. That is probably a problem.”

“I don’t know,” I told her. Hazel had always just seen the world differently. I didn’t know if it was a problem or just a grate against the conventional norm. “I think that you bring perspective. Not always ones that are helpful for you, but they are perspectives all the same.”

She squeezed my hand tighter. “Well then, my new perspective is that it is okay to sometimes just be okay. The world isn’t going to end because we aren’t suffering.”

I wasn’t sure if I knew what she meant by that. Not at that moment, at least. But I knew that her body was a solid weight against mine and up above, a miracle was dancing across the sky. I wanted to hold onto her forever for that. I wanted to sit here and look up at this wonder and live in the moment of ‘okay’ that she spoke of.  Maybe it was that magic that I had felt. Or maybe it was just her. But, I had no intention of moving.

“How long does it last?” I asked her.

“I’m not sure,” she murmured. “I’ve never sat out here long enough to see.”

I looked up again, watching green mix with purple and then swirl around in twirling ribbons to something other worldly. “Want to find out?”

She smiled impossibly brighter. “With you? Always.”