He+She+Me=We

Brandon Figliolino 

He+She+Me=We 
December 25th, 2016 

 

Hey. It’s me. I know, it’s late. You’re probably asleep, your stomach full of good food and wine, and your heart full of hope and happiness. I’ll be falling into slumber soon, but for the time being, I have a mug of cocoa by my side, a purring cat  on my lap, and my fingers twitch with an angst. I have a desire to write. 

 

I’m sure you’ve seen or heard of the so-called “holiday letters.” I receive them from time to time, as you might too. They’re an entertaining way to recall the past year, and a good way to share in the triumphs and successes of friends and family. When photos are attached, they’re even better! 

 

Writing a holiday letter has crossed my mind, but it’s difficult to synopsize everything that I’ve done, and it’s impossible to snip, cut, and relay in two pages the emotions I’ve felt. To omit events, people, and thoughts would be a disservice to me and to you, my intended recipient. Plus, who’s to say anyone would enjoy reading about graduate school or government work? I’m sure there are more interesting topics to read on the internet, like Pinterest crafts or knitting clubs. 

 

No, I will not write a holiday letter this evening. I will not put into writing what I’ve experienced this year, no matter how memorable, exciting, or scary the events may have been. I have a different idea instead. 

 

Tonight, on this warm and calm Christmas evening, I choose to write a thank you letter, addressed to you. You’re sound asleep, but I hope when you awake, you’ll see this letter, and reminisce about our adventures over the past year, with a smile on your face, and love in your heart, as I have done whilst typing away—with the occasional breaks to sip cocoa and pet my furry companion, of course. 

 

Thank you, for encouraging me to pursue my passions, to strive for greatness. 

 

Thank you, for kneeling by my side when I’ve fallen, and for extending your hand to help me stand. 

 

Thank you, for consoling me in times of darkness; your embrace brought me comfort. 

 

Thank you, for cheering me onward and forward, and for celebrating in my proudest moments. 

 

Thank you, for reminding me that I have value, and that I am loved.  

 

Thank you, for being a part of my life. 

 

I won’t say I’ve “grown” this year; I’m 5’9” and I doubt I’ll get any taller. I won’t say that I’ve “changed” either; I’m still the public policy goofball with two cats I’ve been for years. What I will say is that I’ve become more myself, in every sense of the word. 

 

You’ve played an integral part in helping me reconnect with my mind, body, and spirit. 

 

With my mug of steaming hot cocoa, I toast to you, our friendship, and our futures. The world can be uncertain, but I am confident that with you by my side, there will be nothing for me to fear. You’ll be there for me, and I’ll be there for you. We’ll be stronger together, as we’ve been in the past and will be in the future. 2017 is a few days away, and I can’t wait to spend it with you.  

 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. 

 

Love, 

 

-Brandon 

 

 

(C) 2016 Brandon Figliolino

Storm Door

Brandon Figliolino

January 18, 2016

Storm Door

               As of late, I’ve developed an affinity for doors. In particular, I’ve become interested in front doors. I’m intrigued by the styles, colors, and materials that people select. A front door is an extension of one’s personality, and if selected appropriately, can enhance the appearance of the home in which it is stationed.

 My parents’ house has a grandiose oak front door. It has mission-style front panels, and a half-circle piece of beveled glass sets atop it. The handle on the door is a light bronze, and although it squeaks when turned, the knob’s finish is steadfast and hasn’t rubbed off in the decade it’s been employed.

I very much like my parents’ front door, but there’s a door that I like more; the storm door. The crème door, installed in front of the oak one, is fairly simple. Its metal lines have a pattern, rising vertically halfway up the door before twisting into a flower finial. The two pieces of glass on it are interchangeable, and can be swapped out for screens during the warmer months. It’s a solid piece of work.

What I love most about the storm door is the gift it gives us, weather permitting: sunlight. During anytime of the year, when the temperatures are warm, the oak door is opened, and stays opened. Sunlight cascades through the storm door on these days, casting shadows from the dancing ironwork across the foyer. It’s on these days you’ll find the cats curled up against the warm glass bottom of the storm door, comfortably resting in the sunshine laid out onto the plush carpet.

               I remember throwing open the oak door when I was young, shouting, “Here comes the sun!” the light from outside blinding my eyes.

There’s something magical about opening a door and looking out onto the world, even if it’s just a cul-de-sac you see. Being able to see the activity taking place outside—the neighbor playing catch with his son in the street, the widow mowing the lawn across the way, my father tending to the front garden—has a cathartic effect. I feel a sense of calm when I open that door and experience life. The rabbits can be seen gnawing on grass, and when the door is open, the birds that nest in the trees by the drive can be heard singing. It’s magical.

Having a storm door does have drawbacks, though. If the weather sours, the house becomes chilled; storm doors may protect the foyer from rain, but cold permeates easily through its glass. While you can see out of the door, so can everyone on the outer threshold. Privacy is gone, so it’s best to mind your manners when the oak door is opened. Of course, when only the storm door is closed, it’s impossible to hide from the sleazy door-to-door salesman and the energetic canvasser, too.

To my dismay, my condo doesn’t have a storm door. I’m not afforded the opportunity to open the steel front door and leave it that way; it’d allow my two cats a free pass out. With finances tight, I don’t foresee a storm door being installed in the near future, which leaves me two options. The first option I have is to keep the steel door shut and stay inside, protected from prying eyes and poor sales pitches. But I choose the second option, the one where I walk out the front door and stay out. I’ll be vulnerable to crooks and salesmen and hurt feelings, but I’d much rather take that risk than live a life without light.