The Reflection

One of the reflections looked like Julie.

I was in Storrs for the first time since graduation. UCONN had offered a position. The Christmas Tree on the great lawn was hung with large shiny balls, bright, reflecting the colored lights. Looking closely you could see people passing by.

My memories of Julie were sharper than her reflection in the decoration. We'd had our senior year together.

"Let's rake up piles of leaves," Julie laughed, "then we can jump in them."

The colors on our cheeks were as bright as the leaves by the time we were done.

Pizza and beer with friends. Serious discussions; lots of laughs.

Sledding on Horse Barn Hill, hot chocolate in the warming hut.

"You've got a coco mustache," Julie said. I started to reach up with a napkin.

"There's a better way to clear it off," she whispered, leaning in for a kiss. By Spring, we thought we'd be together forever.

Then life intervened. My only graduate school offer was in California. Julie's in Atlanta.

Carolers singing "The First Noël" returned me to the present. A flashback from Julie's reflection, but when I looked again, it was gone. I had to find her.

Bookstore, no luck. Student Union, no luck. No snow for sledding. Maybe one of our favorite places, Willington Pizza. Decked out with greens and sparkling lights.

"Hey stranger," Jeff, the owner, said. "Guess who's here."

The look on my face gave me away.

"Would you like to be shown to her table?" he said with a grin.

"Julie, look who's here," Jeff said, clearly enjoying himself.

She jumped up and came around the table to hug me.

This time it was Julie who had the mustache.

"Let me clear off that beer foam for you," I said. A great welcome back kiss.