Isn’t it funny how long-practiced idealogies can fill us so fully
they become tangible moments marking our existence? –
How certain remnants
seemingly insignificant can trigger the most sentimental of feelings?
Things utterly meaningless to everyone else
A snowman keychain.
The scent of pine.

“for granted” is what you take when you have nothing left
We’re always trying to fill our empty spaces with things that can’t be owned
We grasp at memories like straws
trying to draw the one that will pull us closest to happiness
as if that were a feeling dependent on something outside ourselves
Sometimes going forward means moving in reverse
and the past becomes our presence
so showing up means everything

Childhood curiosity sits heavy with me
I still wonder how bikes fit through chimneys
and where the golden wrapping went
incense replaces gingerbread
humidity for the frost
My calendar says December 25th
but I’m still waiting for the snow to fall.


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