There’s been some positive today, and there will be positive tomorrow. But right now, my heart is far, far too heavy, and I’m embracing the moment to feel. The most amazing thing today was driving home from my family’s (much much subdued this year) Christmas celebration, and spotting a herd of about 20 deer in a snow covered field, bathed in moonlight. Yet… for some reason, that really brought the emotions crashing down hard on me… as if Herne reached out, showed me his peace, and then at the same time, said “FEEL Damnit!” So… I’m feeling. And it hurts. I’ve been watching a “The Office” marathon, and alternating between fits of dozing and wakefulness. Now I’m awake again, and felt the need to post, to pour out, to purge. I had fragments of a poem drifting through my head as well. Which I’ll post below.

In the meantime, I DO wish you all a Merry Christmas, and I hope to not bring anybody else down, but to allow myself to acknowledge myself in all of this, and to get the yuck out, to let the yay in. So… good night my friends, and blessed be you all, and blessings unto you, and a merry merry holiday to you all, all faiths and paths, all walks of life. May you find yourselves surrounded by loved ones and family, and able to truly count your every blessing. Gods rest ye merry gentles. Good night.

Lying awake, scrunched up into a tiny ball,
huddled under a blanket of blue worn fleece,
staring at the ceiling, my favorite fairy tale
playing on the television, reminding
me of my own hopes and dreams,
no stockings hung up by the fireplace,
no tree adorned with lights and ornaments,
no presents under the tree, waiting
expectantly to be torn open,
no tiny faces in the next room
with eyes squinched tight waiting for Santa Claus,
no visions of sugar plums,
heart and hearth sit forlorn and empty,
and the fairy tale plays on from the screen,
bathing me in a bluish glow, playing
parallel to my life, tears causing
the bright colorful lights of the neighboring houses
to shimmer and dance,
my own substitute for tinsel,
the furnace blowing is a poor replacement
for the breath of a loved one in my ear,
the blanket mimics the heat of a body next to mine,
the laundry piled to the side,
a shabby excuse for a tree,
covered in stained ornaments of tomato and gravy.
Tomorrow is a new day, and eventually
the holiday will pick up speed,
and I will not be so alone,
but tonight, … tonight…
it is a Christmas, alone with my fairy tale,
and missing the most precious miracles.