The 12 Months of Christmas

The Twelve Months of Christmas

Rosemary cuddled up to me in front of the fireplace. The spicy fragrance of cinnamon and cloves filled the air; the tartness of the mulled wine filled our senses. "Isn't Christmas a wonderful time of the year? I love the cold air, the warmth of a fire, and best of all, I love the spirit of friendliness and the happiness that seems everywhere. Don't you wish it could be like this year 'round?" she murmured.

"Not really. I enjoy the freshness of spring, the warmth of summer, and the riotous colors of fall too."

"I didn't mean the season or the weather," she said, a small sigh of exasperation escaping her lips. "I meant the ambiance; you know, the mood, the character of the holidays. Sometimes you're too literal," she said, giving me a playful hit.

"That would be a big change. Let me think on it." As we sat there, the warmth and the wine allowed – no forced – my thoughts to drift:

On the first month of Christmas, my true love gave to me ... An eight foot tall balsam fir tree. Hmmm. I do like the fresh pine smell. That would be okay.

On the second month of Christmas, my true love gave to me ... two tinsel strands and an eight foot tall balsam fir tree. Kind of cheap – only two. Well, there's always next month.

On the third month of Christmas, my true love gave to me ... three French kisses, two tinsel strands and an eight foot tall balsam fir tree. Things are looking up but that tree's looking kind of sad.

On the fourth month of Christmas, my true love gave to me ... four prank calls, three French kisses, two tinsel strands and an eight foot tall balsam fir tree. Hey, what happened to that Christmas spirit? C'mon, "Santa's calling to say water the tree?" The tree's shedding all over the place.

On the fifth month of Christmas, my true love gave to me ... A bill for five gold rings, four prank calls, three French kisses, two tinsel strands and an eight foot tall balsam fir tree. What do you mean, "payback?" I'm not the one who keeps a dead tree in the living room. You want a live tree? Go open the window, for Pete's sake.

On the sixth month of Christmas, my true love gave to me ... A note saying "your goose is cooked," a bill for five gold rings, four prank calls, three French kisses, two tinsel strands and an eight foot tall balsam fir tree. Now wait a minute! This was your stupid idea. I just played along. I know it's a fire hazard but you said –and I quote – twelve months. If you don't want it in the house, throw the damn thing out!

"What are you thinking," Rosemary whispered, breaking into my reverie.

"I was considering what you said. You know, as tempting as the thought of twelve months of Christmas is, I think we should pass. If it were Christmas all the time, it wouldn't be special anymore. Besides, there are so many beautiful times of the year that I'd miss enjoying with you; it just wouldn't be worth it."

"Awww honey, what a sweet thing to say!"

"However, there are parts that we could keep as a reminder. Like mistletoe," I grinned. "Merry Christmas, dear," I said, leaning over to kiss her.

"Merry Christmas."

An entry for Day 10, "Invalid Item" 
Prompt: Today is July 25th. It is exactly five months to Christmas. So this got me to thinking. What if we have the 12 Months of Christmas instead of the 12 Days of Christmas?
Word Count: 567