I fished out another tube of wrapping paper, hoping to salvage my Christmas project. I had given up on the idea of creating perfect personalised pamphlets of memories for everyone, but I still had the idea of a single masterpiece in mind.
Looking back at the mess I had made around the pictures and snippets of poetry, I was frustrated with the tangled stripes of colours that stared defiantly back at me. I felt like an amateur diplomat who couldn’t convince them to work with each other.
“Fine.” I murmured through clenched teeth. “You had your chance.”
I stripped the coloured paper in order of annoyance until I was left with just the photos and their captions. Mulling over my next move, I sent the papers through the shredder.
The ribbons at hand earned their place beautifully twined along the edges. The still dominant bald spots begged me to cover them up with stickers, but I couldn’t overdo it. I absent-mindedly placed tiny drops of glue in the cracks and admired the way they caught the light.
I was expecting a drastic change, but the whole thing still looked like a mess. It just looked like one that was trying too hard.
Inspiration dawned as I caught the shredded bits of wrapping paper glinting cheekily. Gleeful with anticipation, I filled my palms and held them over the project like over-saturated clouds. I knew that even if I didn’t like the puddles, I always enjoyed the rain.
The mess morphed into musical chaos as I let the glitter fall.