Peppermint Hot Chocolate

 Back in middle school, my ongoing obsession with Christmas manifested itself in my desire for a Christmassy stargazing night with peppermint hot chocolate. I would mix hot milk with Hershey’s chocolate syrup and rest a peppermint candy cane on the rim of the mug, letting the bottom half melt into the drink. My nephew was spending the weekend with us, as he often does, and when I asked who wanted to join me, he was the only one who enthusiastically jumped at the opportunity. When I look him in the eye today, I can still see what he looked like back then, with his freckled, rounded cheeks and bright eyes that were slightly more green than they are now. I made us both mugs of my “fancy” peppermint hot chocolate and put Michael Bublé’s classic Christmas album on my speaker. We both grabbed our jackets, stepped outside with my dad’s telescopic binoculars, and spent the rest of the night talking each other’s ears off and making our laughter known to the neighbors. My nephew and I don’t always get along, and we’ve often butted heads like siblings. However, our closeness has always been natural. When my parents and I moved back to Palm Springs from England, we weren’t restricted to just summers with Vincent. Now, it was all the time. Since then, Vincent and I have shared countless moments, just like our Christmas night under the stars. Whether it’s with peppermint hot chocolates in November or sloppy gingerbread houses we made on Christmas Eve while everyone was asleep, we somehow make a five-year age difference seem like five minutes. Every Christmas, I restrict pages and pages in my mind to a simple paragraph in a card that never seems to fully capture what a gift it’s been to watch him grow up, and to grow up with him.