let it out. let it go. set it free.

Christmastime

I remember calling Santa with my paps and Christina to remind him that Christmas in our house was a week early because we’re never home. I remember running down the hall, down the stairs and into the dark, cold living room only to find tons of presents covering the floor. I remember the cold backseat with Christina and Muffin, singing Bohemian Rhapsody as we ventured into the night up to New Hampshire, hopeful and excited to be there. 

Every year Christmas is a reminder of what I used to have. What we used to have. The happiness that floated through the house, through our house and now it’s gone. There’s no home here. There’s no home in New Hampshire. The love and warmth has been replaced by hatred and hassle. 

There’s no where to go at home and no where to go up there. We can stick together and we can hold our heads high, but it won’t replace all that’s been lost. There’s no more Christmas eves with Grampy and Grandma. There’s no more Christmas at Grammy’s. The number of people who attend has been diminished to a kitchen table. There’s no grand buffet no ham and turkey. The lasagna is cold. The bread is stale. The butter’s too hard. The potatoes too chunky. The green beans too limp. Where did the magic go? 

Someone, please tell me, where did it all go? 

As the garden in the front yard grows smaller, the tree grows taller and this house seems more unstable.