Good night, sweet Christmas Tree. Time for another season of hibernation. All the ornaments have been removed and all that needs to occur now is to dismantle you. While I wish you could have enjoyed a more festive Sarah this holiday season, at least you got out of the confines of your thick plastic bag for a month.
I think as you came out of your bag, I went in. I was suffocated by the lack of family. The disappointment of loss. The heartache of death. And fear of the unknown. How things have changed since you last came out, dear Christmas Tree. And I have to wonder, what will be different when you are awakened from your slumber next November?
I hope that I’m back on track. That I’ve let go of a lot. That I’ve moved forward instead of backward. That I’ve forgiven and have been forgiven. That I’m healing. That I’m remembering with reverence. That I’m loving like I’ve never loved before.
Yes. Next Christmas, dear Christmas Tree, every little thing is gonna be all right. Or I’m throwing your sorry ass in the trash along with the cremains of my holiday spirit.