The Couple's Last Christmas
A few days after I started my maternity leave—not so much safely as by crawling my way to it—Christmas 2024 arrived.
On the 22nd, we reserved a cake at a delicious local pastry shop and invited my mother over to eat it with us. My husband, who grew up with three siblings, still seemed happy, saying, "It's been a while since I've had a whole cake."
On the 24th, our Christmas dinner. Last year, our first, I roasted a chicken, so this year I tried making lasagna. The meat sauce, which I simmered from midday, was from a recipe by a chef I trust implicitly. As we groaned about how delicious it was, my husband polished off the amount I thought was too much in no time. When I layered the meat sauce and white sauce, I realized I hadn't been able to stack the lasagna sheets very well. If I make it again, I'd like to make it more like a mille-feuille. We also ate the sliced cakes my husband bought on his way home, so it already felt like the second day of Christmas.
The 25th. I heard that influenza was spreading rapidly in town, so I hesitated to go out until the very last minute. My husband had specifically taken the day off, so in the end, we took the plunge and went out to an art museum. Beside the sparse crowds that felt like any ordinary weekday, we saw people walking with large suitcases, making me realize how close the end of the year was.
We went into a sweet shop we had visited together a few times before, and after much deliberation, we ordered cream anmitsu, oshiruko, and ozoni. The balance between cold and hot, sweet and salty was exquisite, and we finished it all off smoothly. Starting with the cake the other day, we've been eating a bit too many sweets.
It was our first time at an art museum since summer. I hadn't been able to go at all since I got pregnant, but it's one of the few places we go out to together. Perhaps because I'm pregnant, I get tired easily, and since there's a fair amount of walking in the museum, I made a conscious effort to sit on the sofa placed in the middle of the large exhibition room. It felt fresh to be able to better appreciate the space surrounded by paintings on all sides. I was happy that my husband matched my slow pace and that we were able to return home safely and in good spirits.
I think this might be the last time we visit an art museum as a couple for Christmas. Thinking that makes me feel unbearably lonely, and when I whispered, "Thank you," and "My precious, precious [Husband's Name]," as we were going to sleep, my husband replied, "My precious, precious [My Name], and the child born between the two of us," which made me burst into tears I couldn't hold back.
I remembered that early in the morning and tears welled up again; I cried so hard I was sobbing, and I wonder if my husband sleeping next to me might have noticed. I feel like it's probably fine since he's always fast asleep, though.
My dear child, thank you for coming to us, a couple who gets along so well. Even so, if there ever comes a day when we want to spend time just the two of us, please forgive us. I am so, so sad that this treasure-like time will come to an end in three months, and I've been crying more than at any other time during my pregnancy.