It's tradition.

The Howard's Christmas party was an annual event that everybody who was anybody looked forward to. The house came alive during the festive season. Decorations were retrieved from the dark corner under the staircase, brought back to life and carefully placed in positions of honour. A wreath hung on the door, a tree stood in the window and stockings were strung along the mantlepiece.

The old stand by's were also around. The tall lean nutcracker waited by a bowl of nuts. Plates adorned with images of a reindeer stood stacked by a ring of shrimp. A large crystal bowl twinkled in the soft lighting, inviting folks to take a cup of the crimson liquid it contained. I never touched the stuff, personally. But many did, including the couple standing in the darkened corner, huddled together as though they needed support from each other to stay standing.

I had been watching them for a little while. I knew where this dance was headed. I had seen it often enough over the years. They engaged first at the said punch bowl, the man offering the woman a glass with a smile. They fell into an easy conversation. She placed a hand on his arm. They moved in unison, slowly shuffling to a less populated location. Each step brought them closer together. She reached up to whisper in his ear. He bent down to provide her easier access, placing a hand on her waist for support. She leaned in, curving her body to match his.

There was a moment, that sweet few seconds where the world seemed to slow down, where anticipation outweighed sensibility, passion won over nerves. Where meaning was made clear. And then their lips touched. Soft and timid at first. But quickly, after establishing the other's intent, the kiss intensified. They were so lost in each other, in their own world, that they hadn't noticed me watching them.

The party started an hour ago and it was now in full swing. I was hanging out in the foyer, as usual. Over the years it had become my tradition to be part of the greeting ritual as guests arrived. Sort of. The host did most of the work. Greeting her guests, inviting them in, taking coats. I helped where I could. Some people saw me and when passing by, gave me a wide berth. But others were kinder, more receptive. Some even used my presence as an excuse to steal a kiss.

I had become I bit of an expert on kisses over the years. Call it an obsession or a hobby. Either way, I had a categorization system that most kisses fell into.

There was the functional kiss. A quick pressing of the lips, usually to the cheek of the intended, in a light passionless peck that personally left me a little cold. It was, however, a very popular option these days.

Then there was the European kiss. No, not what you are thinking. Not the French kiss (we will come to that later), but rather the double kiss. This kiss seemed more ardent because it was given with such emotion. However, it rarely made any connection with the intended, instead hitting the air just before contact. I never really understood its purpose or why it counted as a kiss. It was more a gesture from my point of view.  And don't get me started on the folks who repeated the action three times. Wasn't twice enough?

Now we get to the good stuff. The enthusiastic kiss. Lips against lips. These were rarer but much sweeter. They ranged from a swift puckering to a lingering smooch to downright spit swapping. The couple in the corner were definitely demonstrating a textbook case of a classic canoodle. I hope I don't have to explain it to you. I imagine you know exactly what it feels like. It's the stuff that makes the season bright. In my opinion. 

Each year, the Christmas party seemed to have a theme. Sometimes it was natural and others it was more....forced. The latter was absolutely defined by the ugly Christmas sweater fad. Those were bright parties, hard on the eyes and I for one was glad to see that tradition die. Most were with me on that front. Except for Uncle Ned. I spied him across the room, sweater worn with pride. Garish green glared, pocked only by a string of flashing red "Ho, Ho, Ho" blazoned across his chest. So Uncle Ned.

This year, it was all about a return to the classics. Bing, Brenda, Frank and Ertha were coolly crooning in the background. The low hum of conversation complementing the timeless tunes. Laughter punctuated the low notes. In general, it looked as I surveyed the room like everyone was having a merry ole time.

And that is when I spotted her.

This was a newcomer, a late addition to the traditional guest list. A fresh breath of air amongst the regulars. Her ruby red dress shimmered against her ivory skin. A shining star to guide the wise men.

She was standing by the bookcase, running a long, lean finger along the spines of the tomes encased on one of the shelves. I admired the curve of her neck as she bent down to read the titles. I have to admit, I was a little envious of those books, getting her full attention.  How could this vision of loveliness be all alone at this party?

She wasn't going to be alone for long. Uncle Ned was headed straight for her.

I wanted to do something but I was stuck in place. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. Ned sidling up behind her, the girl sensing his presence and spinning around. And it was then that I saw her face for the first time.

She was gorgeous.

There really was no other word for it. Big blue eyes shone from under long luscious lashes, highlighted by just the right amount of makeup to augment them. Small pert nose and delicate lips, tinted with a deep red to match her outfit. All framed by soft ringlets of auburn hair that acted like a halo around her perfect face. She was an angel here on earth.

Ned was busy gesticulating wildly at her, no doubt regaling her with his stories of his version of glory. Classics indeed. Unfortunately, I've heard most of Ned's tall tales multiple times and each time they get a little more and more unbelievable. For my angel's part, her kindness showed as she nodded along. She was either truly interested in what Ned had to say or a very good actress. Either one did her credit in my book.

After what seemed ages to me, so I can't imagine how the girl felt, our hostess finally did what I could not and swooped in to save the day. She parted my paramour from Uncle Ned and led him to the cookie table, freeing his captive to survey the room. Raising a slender wrist, this vision in red checked the watch attached to it. It seemed she liked what she saw because her lips turned upwards.

I felt the familiar rush of cold against my back as the door must have opened to let in another patron. But I didn't look. I only had eyes for her. She was now walking towards me. I felt a strange pull like fate was bringing us together.

She paused for a moment.  Then looked up at me and smiled. It was a beautiful sight.

Stepping forward, my angel flung her arms around the man now standing directly beneath me. "Roger," she exclaimed with such joy in her inflection.

I tingled with pride as they shared a kiss of the very enthusiastic kind.

The man, for his part, pointed up to me as I hung from the ceiling and said: "Told you they'd have mistletoe."