wreath by EJ 12/24/19

Day 358
December 24, 2021
It's been 3 years since I actually participated in Christmas Eve.

It's Christmas Eve and I have heard Emerson Lake and Palmer and Joni Mitchell sing sad songs.  I heard Ian Anderson join George Lake in I Believe In Father Christmas.  It's a touch back to the beginning of the 70's and ice storms and boyfriends and family memories.  Christmas does that you know.  

And newer memories of eating breads with Kora early in the morning and watching her smile and enjoy her world.

Ember, Moriah, Grace and Jordan curious and interested and bright. We tried to bring a keyboard to my house and all of us would sing.  We were so massive and overwhelming. Singing songs with family, so important a part of Christmas until Daddy went, actually it wasn't any less important just not as easy and fluid.  And in one single year, so much loss in so short a time coloring so much.  I do Believe in Father Christmas.  I believe in love. Sometimes I think my body is a surface that has been etched on and printed and reprinted a thousand times.  

I remember in the late 60's my Great Uncle Lou told me one's 80s were the best years.  I believed him, and I do believe it just gets better and better. I look forward to my 80s and I hope I'm still tangled up in all of the love I'm tangled in today.

what kind of camera will I own?

Merry Christmas everyone. It's just that sometimes "I wish I had a river to skate away upon."

Public Transportation

Got off the train in Grand Central

spilled out into the dark.

The concrete, the lights on

walls across the tracks, Numbers 14 and 16,

people pushed together

 the smell, urine and must.

 

I was small

held my father’s hand tight.

Kept pace with the crowd

aware of the suit jackets

the overcoats in front of my face,

a little too quick for slippery shoes.

 

Until we rushed into the

enormous, open, elegant

Station with bright lights

shiny brass, deco geometrics

and that clock that let one know

we were out of the tunnel and free.