I stand in the doorway of my parents’ mustard yellow house located on Main Street of my little hometown of Fairchance, Pennsylvania.  The sun going down paints shadows across our front lawn on the soft blanket of white.

“What a pretty evening”

I whisper to myself.  My breath makes spirals of fog on the window pane.  As I wait, I watch as the neighbors take turns flicking on their Christmas light displays helping to preserve what is left of the daylight slowly melting away.  Cars zoom by, but I make sure to keep my eyes peeled for the navy blue one.  Our house smells like roasted ham and cranberry sauce that my mother had been preparing all afternoon.  I can hear her singing a polka in the next room over in her thick accent.  Our tiny house looks great.  I turn to inspect the tinsel covered tree in the corner of the room and the stockings my grandmother made each of us on the mantel.  Even though I am now 27 years old, my mother still insists on hanging mine up.  My name, Kathryn Angel, painted across the top of the decoration stares prominently at me from across the room.  I turn back to the window again when suddenly I see it.  A long, navy car pulls into our cleared driveway.  I quickly check my appearance in the mirror and casually drape myself on the couch.  I hear a knock and before I know it I am answering the door without thinking twice.  Jerry Marcinak stands in the doorway as handsome as ever.  I met the tall, dark haired man a year earlier at a local dance hall.  There was an instant connection between the two of us.  So much so that Jerry broke up with his girlfriend at the time to pursue me.  As he enters our home from the cold, I notice a mischievous smile plastered on his dimpled face.  I take his jacket and pull him into the living room.  I take pride in showing him the decorations I carefully placed stopping lastly at my homemade stocking.  Jerry suddenly reaches into his pant pocket pulling out a little black box that fits perfectly in the palm of his hand.  With a grin, he drops it into my stocking.  Before it even hits the bottom, I grab the tiny box and pop it open.  I look down disappointed to see a candy bar.

“Oh you!”

I say smacking him on the arm.  Humiliated I throw it across the room hitting the opposite wall.  Jerry laughs and again reaches into his pocket revealing yet another little black box.  He gently places it in my hands and my eyes grow wide.  As I open the box, I shriek in delight.  A diamond ring with a brilliant gold band shines back at me.

“Yes!  Of course!”

I yell embracing Jerry.  I rush into the next room to show my mother and sister my newest accessory