Mistletoe always seemed like a silly idea. When I was a little kid, my Aunt Gertie would prod me along through the house until I was trapped in a doorway with thay stupid garland above my head. Before I could move, BAM! I was washing lipstick off my face for a week.
As I grew a bit older, little girls tried to coerce me under the mistletoe for a holiday kiss. I always ran away.
When I hit about the age of ten, I took it upon myself to demolish every sprig in the house. Ike managed to save one, and took it around at our parent's Christmas party, trying to get some girls to kiss him. I hated girls then. I think Zac was just oblivious.
I turned thirteen or fourteen, and the ban that I had with my brothers made it big. That Christmas, I got to see mistletoe in a bunch of different countries. Some of them must import the stuff! But, what was amazing were the girls who came up for autographs with mistletoe in hand, clearly expecting a kiss when I leaned over to sign a piece of paper for them. I found that even though a lot of those girls didn't speak much English, they still knew the supposed "meaning" of the mistletoe. Much like when I was a boy, I learned to run from it.
Over the years, I grew to hate that shining bough that I saw in everyone's doorways. It promoted infidelity, oral herpes, and contact with people that I didn't want to come in contact with. I became glad to stay in hotel rooms where no one could cite "tradition" when they tried to lay one on me.
But, somehow, it all changed when I met her. Christmas Eve... We had all just opened our one present from the Secret Santa program. She got my name and bought me art supplies. There was a pair of scissors sitting on top. I always lose scissors, so it was a practical gift as well. I remember looking up from my gift and seeing her blushing and watching me closely. She looked so cute.
And, I still can't believe what I did next. I opened the package with the scissors, walked over to a doorway with no one by it, cut down a sprig of that hated decor and handed it to her. I remember her grinning and saying, "If you kiss under mistletoe, what do you do over it?"
I didn't have an answer for her then, and I don't have one now. I know that I lost my fear of mistletoe, and found that it's okay to kiss over the mistletoe, too. I now know the good in mistletoe when I catch her in the doorway as we're rushing around the house during the Christmas season, and we meet sweetly. Some things are nice to share. Kisses, milkshakes, scissors... and I'm glad to share them all with her.
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