To All A Good Night

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by Judy Garland play on the radio.

I'm shaking with a bed sheet wrapped around my upper torso, while Pa stacks lumber in the fireplace.

The cold from the chimney whistles down the brick and gets me shaking again.

Ma does her best to salvage whatever leftovers we have into a soup.

I know it's going to be terrible, but at least it will keep me from freezing.

Other households must be huddled around a Christmas tree, singing carols, or littering the floor with unwrapped gifts.  Cinnamon and gingerbread probably fill the air, as kids stuff their faces with sweets and parents drown themselves in alcohol.

This is not my reality.  A crackling fire and home made soup is as good as it gets.  And yet, something inside me tells me that I'm lucky.

All those other families lead superficial lives.  Their memories are destined to evaporate and recycle themselves over and over again.


Pa strikes a match and lights some old newspaper.The ink smudges onto his fingertips, matching the dark soot from his palms.

Ma's aromatic concoction hits my nose.

I can't help but cry, so I sink into the couch concealing my happiness.

Judy finishes off her lullaby:

Someday soon we all will be together
If the fates allow
Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now

Screaming Silently

"Dance with me" you say.

I deny your advances, but can't help imagine a perfect world where our dancing wouldn't attract negative stares.

It's a cruel world we live in, where two people who love each other are denied the right to feel comfortable in public.  Instead we're reduced to slow dancing in private with the shades drawn and the lights turned down low.

The low glow of a candle shows us how, as we imagine peace, love, and a world without judgment and shame.

You See Me

Young thing,
there's a look in your eye.

Your words penetrate me
for the first time in years.

Something about your demeanor,
teases my soul.

I want to stare all day long,
but I'm reduced to a few glimpses.

It must be the optimism you embody,
pulling me in like a tractor beam.

This cold soul,
has a heart beat again.

For this I'm eternally grateful.