Skip to main content

O' Christmas Tree. O' Christmas Tree.

O' Christmas Tree. O' Christmas Tree. How in the world are you needles still clinging to your branches?

It's January 11th and our Christmas Tree still stands tall, and round, and full of light. Not only that, but it's a live tree that hasn't been watered for a good three weeks and it stands with its needles still attached and its color still saturated green.

I've never had a live tree in my home before. In fact, I've only had a GREEN tree in my home once before - in December 2003, the first year I moved in.

I had been using white wire trees in my home every year since then. They were beautiful...but they were not the color of the Christmases that I remember. Then again, a lot of the time this home hasn't really captured the feeling of "home" that I remember.

But, right now my home isn't the same as it was last year or the year before. I feel settled in. I feel like this is "home" 7 days a week again.

This year, together, we picked out a beautiful tree. And so far we've been in no hurry to tear our first Christmas down.


Nick James said…
I'm dreaming of a white Christmas. Christmas is whatever color you want it to be, as long as that color shines. I'm glad you are shining. Your house is finally a home and that is excellent. Glad life is going great for the both of us.

Popular posts from this blog

The knowing.

You settled into my dream. Stared me from my sleep. And told me it was time for a birth.  I asked if I could stay by your side.  A tender “no” was pushed from your lips. I stood to leave while the others danced around me. Your fear and my rejection walked me out of that dream.
That morning, grief was born. It poured from my body for 7 straight days.
You ghosted my life with coffee, clowns, and diamonds - A knowing that slipped between us. Then a person of your making began to stain my thoughts. He received the words I couldn’t say to you. And we connected over the beauty and pain you left behind.
We both miss your song.

Impaired Judgement

I live a life of impaired judgement. That’s why the wildest flowers rush to bloom in my arms. And stories filled with truth boom inside my ears. Your stories. His. Hers. And, my stories.
I can’t sleep with all these rules. The air is too thin. I want to learn to thrive in the thick of it. And, melt magnificently in the heat of it.
Unravel and tangle into all new knots. Find a way to slip through the cracks and expand to create space. Experiment with a stance that is completely still and strong. Then, crawl desperately towards the feet of everything I am afraid of.
Thrash around. Kick up dirt. And, rise again covered in messy, beautiful life.


Press the seed of this story just inside my lips
I will nurture it with warm breath and a low hum
Let it dance from the tip to the cup of this tongue
Then tuck it safe inside my cheek for later
When it's time to swallow it whole