welcome writers & readers - happy friday!
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i'm so thankful it's the weekend, though a little overwhelmed at how jam-packed it is with things to do. one cheery task is that the tree, which currently resides in our living room, must be lighted and trimmed. though i'm not thrilled with the blurry edge of the photo, i love how we can see individual needles clinging to the branch. the intricate beauty of this inspires me, and i hope it inspires you writers as well. come write with me! poem, short story or creative non-fiction - 300(ish) words or less. share it by clicking on comments below. readers, comments are open to you, too. thanks to all for stopping by = )
In a few short hours my family will gather around this tree and cover it with beautiful things: lights that pierce the darkness, an angel to watch over us and direct our gaze upward sometimes over the next busy weeks, and ornaments that mark fourteen years of family life.
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A grinning Nutcracker ornament from the very first Christmas I dated my sweetie, when we saw a production of the musical at the Fox theater in midtown Atlanta. An adorable handcrafted clay snowman ornament bought on a weekend in Asheville, NC the same as we gave to our wedding party as thank you gifts for our (almost) Christmas wedding.
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Baby's first Christmas x3. A dog bone with Maddy's name inscribed on it (still brings tears when we pull it from the tissue paper five years after she went to Dog Heaven). A ceramic Santa ornament from our second honeymoon trip, the one where we fought half the time and spent the other half in the sunken bathtub next to the blazing fireplace.
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Fancy crystal ornaments from the in-laws, one for each year, that cost more than a day's wages and catch every bit of light in the room, never failing to enchant my boys, even though they're no longer babies. One ornament for each boy, for each year, some hastily bought on Christmas eve from the grocery store, some chosen with care and lovingly inscribed with their names - depending on how hectic life was that year.
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I'm taken with this lovely tree, who in all of its natural beauty, will stand patiently with us through the holiday, bearing the many blessings and thankfully few burdens of our years together.
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A grinning Nutcracker ornament from the very first Christmas I dated my sweetie, when we saw a production of the musical at the Fox theater in midtown Atlanta. An adorable handcrafted clay snowman ornament bought on a weekend in Asheville, NC the same as we gave to our wedding party as thank you gifts for our (almost) Christmas wedding.
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Baby's first Christmas x3. A dog bone with Maddy's name inscribed on it (still brings tears when we pull it from the tissue paper five years after she went to Dog Heaven). A ceramic Santa ornament from our second honeymoon trip, the one where we fought half the time and spent the other half in the sunken bathtub next to the blazing fireplace.
-
Fancy crystal ornaments from the in-laws, one for each year, that cost more than a day's wages and catch every bit of light in the room, never failing to enchant my boys, even though they're no longer babies. One ornament for each boy, for each year, some hastily bought on Christmas eve from the grocery store, some chosen with care and lovingly inscribed with their names - depending on how hectic life was that year.
-
I'm taken with this lovely tree, who in all of its natural beauty, will stand patiently with us through the holiday, bearing the many blessings and thankfully few burdens of our years together.
Yule activities
ReplyDeletebring stinging odors to mind -
sweet, tart childhood dreams
A Holiday Haunting
ReplyDeleteWhen the first fall breeze brings cool northern air to relieve the summer heat, it is time for me to decide. The holidays are coming, those days that make a break in the normal ebb and flow. For me, the gentle rise and fall of routine is soothing, a constant breathing of time that supports and surrounds like a dip in a warm, salty ocean. Within it I float, buoyed up by sameness, safe.
The holidays break it. They fracture everything. There is a tremendous flash of dazzling, blinding light as the world shatters. I’m left standing on the broken shards, unable to look into brightness, staring at the void.
Then the memories rush in.
I hate them.
Loathe them.
Everyone is gone. There are no happy memories. The fullness of the past is a glaring arrow that points to the emptiness of the present. The desire to tear my hair, scream, rend my clothes and writhe in the ashes… it is almost overwhelming. The abyss calls to me, pulls at me, every winter. When I look for someone to blame, the only soul here belongs to me.
So when I decide, I decide to run. Again.
A faint clinking accompanies me as I leave, the remnants of my shattered life trailing behind me, still holding me. I glide through the door, away from the darkness.
And away from the light.
Such a contrast between these first two reflections on the photo! Both powerful and evocative. Good work, both of you. :)
ReplyDelete