10 days to christmas – turtle doves

Written by: Ng Le Kang (23-I2)

Designed by: Lim Sher Min (23-E1)

I. DOVE

On 15 December, in a quaint countryside house which sits by the bustle of Helsinki, a woman sits by her dressing table, counting the new grey threads which threaten to displace her ebony hair. She glides her hand through her crisp hair, trembling sporadically to the cold stale air of her room. She turns. Her face droops as she faces the piles of corrugated storage boxes collecting dust, proof of her inability to settle down and enjoy the countryside life she envisioned. The recently painted walls of her bedroom reek of its urban city dwellers; a cutting reminder of the city life which she has promised to remove herself from.

Just a month ago, she came with the promise of a new life, one where she could finally breathe comfortably. A month has passed since; she waits impatiently. She recites forlornly: “Today will be better.” Today will be the day she sits on her velvet couch with traditional lace patterns, sipping on a decadent cup of hot chocolate which stains her lips a deep chestnut. She will read Persuasion by the hearth while the burning oak wood whispers to her lullabies. Doves will be chirping by her windowsill, as the warm scent of cinnamon and maple wafts from the kitchen. She will live her life today. Except doves do not appear in Helsinki in winter. She is the only dove perched in Helsinki, and what a fool she is to expect herself to be chirping love songs. She can only scream gutted silence amongst the facade of her peace. She walks languidly out, shuddering at her own confusion, her flight against the cold streaks of winter.

🕊️

Sitting on the steps of a veranda of a silent countryside house in Helsinki, a man inattentively re-ties his shoelaces for the fifth time. Or the seventh. He watches the gentle breeze. A person of less experience would think this delirious; He who has sat here alone frequently would know that the wind dictates the movement of falling snow; even the slightest breeze can sway the ashy snow. He mulls over the past month, how colour was gradually sapped away, as fresh snow shrouded the city in a blinding white. He who has expected to find peace amongst the white landscape, is confronted with a ghastly silence, penetrating deep into the cavities of his body.

He shivers faintly, as the sharp claws of the wintry cold impales deep into the marrow of his bones. His breath condenses immediately, forming a little ephemeral cloud which diffuses the very same moment. He wonders how many moments have passed, and how many are to come. He recalls gleefully, the many Christmas shows he has watched — two leads sharing a warm breath in the glow of winter. His happiness empties and drains from his smile, and his cheeks fall wearily. He wonders what this knot he has been tying the past decades is called. It looks like two graceful wings, unwittingly grounded by shoes. He feels a sharp pain up his knees as he stands to face the door. He waits.

🕊️

She gets in the car. The engine rumbles as she masquerades her peace. Deep within, her heart quavers and skips a beat. She fumbles with the ring on her ring finger.

🕊️

He drives with a steady hand. He watches the rear view mirror, his eyes occasionally darting away from the roads. 

🕊️

She scrutinises the miles of white stretching into the distance. The only sound she can hear is that of the wipers sweeping the windshield, its pendulous, oscillating motion jarring to the irregularity of her contrived breathing. She notes that the town is approaching, wishing to find joy and escape the emptiness.

🕊️

He opens the car door to face the streets: crowded with Christmas decorations and people. He shudders at the thought of losing himself further in this sea of brilliance — this blizzard of glimmer which he hoped to avoid. 

🕊️

Silence lingers. She paces nervously, her hands drifting absently on the snowglobes on the shelf. She cannot recall the last time she went out, the last time they went out… 

A month has passed since we moved to Helsinki. 

II. TURTLE DOVES

“Uhm…This snowglobe is pretty. Wonder what Paris is doing inside…this.” We laughed at the snowglobe, at how foolish it was to try to contain the city of romance within a tiny glass sphere. As we shook the snowglobe the white speckles did glissades and slid us into the night we danced by the seine. The streets were lined with romantic candlelight like street lamps, whilst La Vie En Rose gracefully swirled around our tender dance. The air was sweet with roses and a calm mist perforated the night, the eiffel tower gently illuminating the mist with glistening sparkles of light. We stared into each other’s eyes, as our wings began to spread after the end of snow to welcome the blossoming flowers. 

“The night we were supposed to go to the eiffel tower…we got lost, and ended up dancing by the seine. It was beautiful.” We watched ourselves re-explore the beautiful city coming to life in our minds, the time we ran the streets of Paris, the time we bought a pain au chocolat to share. “That was our honeymoon.”

“Is.”

“Yes it still is.” We felt the heat rush up our cheeks as we flushed with a cherry red. The silence returned as we walked out of the shop, only this time the silence was drizzled with a generous serving of maple syrup.

As we walked the streets we sauntered side by side. Our paces matched like a pair of wings which flapped, to take off into the picturesque heights. As invisible threads begin to bundle us closer, the hairs on our skins tingled like flustered butterflies. Our hands slowly met and tied itself tightly into a knot, a bow knot, each muscle resting comfortably on the warmth of the other’s hand.

“Look at this!” We ran into a shop.

🕊️

As the sun began its slow descent, the sky turned a deep amber. The streets began to light in brilliant hues of red and green, while lulling carols played in the distance. As we walked back to the car, we were filled with a grave stillness, out of fear that this beauty , this transient beauty, would disintegrate like a bubble once we spoke. The engines rumbled silently amongst the cacophony of Helsinki. The car keys chime, and faintly the car radio sings: "Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is…”

I took a deep breath. “I got you a gift, it's not a lot but I figured…since it's our anniversary…anyways, here, it's a pair of turtledove bracelets. I just thought we could each have one...It's not much. I know…”

“I love it.” A kiss on the cheeks.

We watched the sun gently dipped below the horizon, as it bade its adieus. Its rays stretched out lovingly like a last embrace, before slipping back into its humble abode.

“The snow is getting heavier, and it's getting dark, let’s…head home?” A tinge of reluctance. 

A tightening grip of the hand. “We’ll…we’ll stay like this…right?”

“We will.”

For days to come the snow will not stop, but their love will bring them through this harsh winter ahead, as one sits reading Persuasion, while the other bakes cinnamon rolls for dessert. 

This is a story of a boy and girl who are a pair of turtle doves, shackled to each other. This is a story of this boy who could not wait for ten more days till Christmas, and proposed in half agony, half hope to the love of his life on 15 December, running foolishly after her the moment he received their custom made engraved rings. This is a story of this foolish girl who cried warm tears and said yes to this foolish boy. 

The day is 15 December. Ten days to Christmas. We came hoping to visit Santa Claus village to reignite the joy of a mundane life. We put ourselves in the bustle of Helsinki. We found a family waiting at home for Christmas.