All I Want for Christmas is You

March 5, 2009
By Moriah BRONZE, Bristow, Virginia
Moriah BRONZE, Bristow, Virginia
3 articles 0 photos 2 comments

The last notes of the song ended in a sea of applause and wild cheers.

Twenty-one-year-old Macy Lee looked fondly over at her singing partner, Micah Chase, who was in charge of the final announcements for their December 1st winter concert.

'Six years ago today was a very special day for Macy and I,' he began, and Macy smiled, 'But today I hope this date will be even more special because I have an announcement that is extremely important. Macy- I want you to marry me.'

The crowd gave a romantic gasp as he got down on one knee.

Between all the chants of say yes, say yes!, Macy gasped with shock and excitement, and a wave of familiarity rushed over her. She remembered the significance of what happened six years ago'

15-year-old Macy pulled her fur-covered hood closer around her face and her scarf up around her chin, jamming her hands dejectedly into her big coat pockets. Misty-warm air flowed from her mouth and nostrils as she scuffed down the old-fashioned shopping center. A cold, snowless, and worst of all, loveless, December first-- less than a month until Christmas, but Macy felt as far from the holiday as she could ever remember being.

She stopped suddenly as Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas is You twinkled through the scattered speakers.

'Excuse me! Ma'am!' A tall man, clothed in a suit and tie beneath his heavy overcoat shoved himself past her into the store.

'Oh' sorry,' Macy mumbled after him.

Dashing away tears, she ran to a nearby bench and collapsed on its ice-encrusted wooden frame heavily.

'God, it's not fair!' she whispered frantically up at the snowless winter sky, 'I never get the boy- it's always Jessica or Brianne. Really, God, Micah's a great guy- why not him? I'm always too shy and too chicken to get to know people well enough- they never see who I really am! I'm too shy about everything! Why can't I make myself try out for that beautiful solo part in the Christmas production this year? I promised myself last year that I would! It's' I don't know' so, so ' hard! If I could have the littlest bit of encouragement' ooh! That's cold!'

A snowflake landed with a tickle on her nose. A snowflake! She glanced up and saw a million little glitters slowly drifting down to her.

She suddenly closed her eyes and laughed out loud, 'That's good enough for me!'

Jumping from her seat, Macy remembered it was the day of the solo and duet tryouts for her church's Christmas performance. She walked, half-tripping on the slick street, as fast as she could to her church, which was two blocks down, and swung open the thick glass door.

As always, the winter production soloists were taking a break at Starbucks. And, as always, they had carelessly left the sound system on.

Macy, as always, ducked in the sanctuary door, stripped off her bulky furred coat and kicked off her now-snowy boots, and went gingerly to the sound-system booth. Slipping in her iPod she had brought, she grabbed a microphone.

As her music began, she headed to the empty stage, turned when she reached the middle, and gazed out at the empty chairs.

Slowly, she lifted the microphone and began to sing. Then she began to smile; and she tilted her head back; her feet moved naturally beneath her as her heart began to feel the resounding beat whirling around inside of her. Subconsciously, she pulled out her hair-band to let her hair swing playfully to her waist like a ribbon of amber, shining as it swung with the steady rhythm of the song. She closed her eyes and let the passion of the dramatic notes ripple through her.

And she sang. Really sang- not with her voice as the typical singers do, but with all the passion in her heart welling up through her voice.

But she had forgotten that the song was a duet and empty music quickly flooded the near-empty room.

Suddenly there was a little click, and an amazing tenor voice filled the emptiness of the room- and Macy's heart.

She glanced over, not wanting to raise her hopes of who might be the mysterious singer. . .

She almost cried with joy.

Micah, with his hair the million-and-one shades of silky chocolate, and eyes like comforting cinnamon, stood at the edge of the stage, a silvery microphone on his chin.

At his wink, she grinned and began to sing.

Their voices blended in beautiful harmony, but Macy's heart suddenly plummeted when she realized that Micah would never think of her as more than a singing partner. She looked down, her cheeks about to burn with embarrassment for her obvious excitement' until she felt a sturdy warmth in her hand and looked up to see Micah grinning down at her.

Suddenly, the world was a brighter place, and as the song ended he squeezed her hand.

'Well!' a professional-sounding voice echoed around the place, 'You were a little early for duet tryouts, but you have the part!'

'What?' Macy stared at a short little woman with a notebook and pen on her knee.

'The tryouts- you have the opening duet.'

Macy turned back to Micah's grinning face and gawked.

'We have a duet!' she squealed.

He raised an eyebrow at her as he guided her off the stage.

'Well,' he said sternly, 'If we're going to be singing together, we should probably be finding out a little more about each other.'

'Oh?' Macy replied formally, playing along, 'Really?' she tried desperately not to burst out laughing.

'Starting with that bag of butter popcorn and hot cocoa mix from the church kitchen. Whadaya say?'

'I say it's bad for your singing voice!' called the little director woman from across the sanctuary.

He gave Macy a wink and flashed her a wild smile. She couldn't help but give a wild laugh in return.

'I say' yes!'

The two of them weren't teenagers anymore, but Micah's amazing brown eyes still twinkled up at her, and the same wink and wild grin took over his sweet face. Once again, Macy couldn't help but laugh as she thanked God for her life, voice, and soon-to-be fianc'.

'Whadaya say,' he whispered up at her.

'I say'yes! Micah Chase, all I want for Christmas is you.'

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