I stood there high and saw the sorrow from loss below my heart did nothing tomorrows came with tears all around but still nothing why did you get to take the both of us away from a life of no regret you controlled everything now you are nothing not even a thing anymore you should have been made to be someone who lives with it too but instead got to leave with half of the secrets I bare the weight of two heavy with memories of darkness pained by unheard screams of listen to me I grieving not death no, I am grieving the loss chances to face hurt with words stab hard with scars shown with no shame be the trial seeking reason and forgiveness only I forever will walk the green mile alone and life as I know it throws your sentence away forever
Ah, the Christmas argument. What’s a Christmas without a good go at it over gifts ideas, budgets, or how much does that cost? This time of year can bring a lot of holiday cheer but unfortunately, it also brings with it some holiday jeers. For example, last night while shopping I happened to find myself within an earshot from a full-on couple spat one aisle over. You could tell it was one where both parties were whisper shouting at each other. A very awkward moment we can completely relate to because who are we kidding? We’ve all been there at some time or another during the weeks leading up to Christmas. Tensions so high that with one tiny mood swing, all of the sudden everyone is doing a quick about-face, ready to throw Christmas out the door and forget it was even happening. Enough of this, we’ve spent too much money already and half of what is in this cart is the wrong gift idea anyway. So there. I am going home.
I decided to designate a page for my Christmas series. Keep all of my memories and stories about Christmas in one festive place. There is more to come, but this should get you in the spirit of the holidays. Hope you enjoy them. Just click below…
Ah, the ruined Christmas gift. No better way to sabotage your own built-up magic spirit of the holidays than tampering with the biggest most wanted item on your list. I was about six or seven when I began to get to the bottom of this Santa break and enter gimmick. As each year went on, the more cognizant I became of the sneaking around my mother, grandmother, and aunt were doing during weeks leading up. My senses became Santa sharp. I remember starting to spot cover-up Christmas things my family were doing to paint the most perfect backdrop to a wonderful holiday to come. Welcomed, only I was on to them. I became keener on hearing Christmas code conversations that filled the cookie baking nights of my grandmother’s kitchen. I knew, but the cookies were too delicious. And, one day, which turned out to be the beginning of the end to my belief in a man called Santa, was when I found the peace a la resistance. I found the Holy Grail of childhood Christmas holiday wonder. I found the notorious and infamous gift hiding place. Yup, with all those skills I had acquired, and with all the determination of a kid destined to ruin the only magical wonder he would experience in his life, I went ahead and spoiled my very own Christmas with one too many tears in the gift wrapping.
Ah, the missing gift. Christmastime, a sad reminder that once again there will be a certain To: and From: gift nametag missing from under the tree. A present that no longer finds its way on Santa’s list. A gift we most likely have asked for every year since. It is one of the hardest things about the holidays for me. Though, I learned a long time ago not to dwell on that when it came to thinking of the people that are no longer a part of my life. Instead, I started to think of all the memories I have of them and no matter what, they will always be a part of my life that way. That will never be lost.
Officer Dusty Salad had been given strict orders to bring Detective Sarah Wilson directly home after the Burnside Country Club investigation wrapped up. No stops, no detours, just straight to 126 Maple Road. The address of Detective Ethan Frost and his wife Susan. Only, Officer Salad was not following the orders he was given. He was not on his way to 126 Maple Road. No instead, instead, he was driving his police cruiser in the opposite direction. And, in two short minutes, with the key party to those orders in the backseat, would be pulling up to Lochlan’s Pub. A bar located a few short blocks from the precinct that catered mostly to cops. It was the perfect place to blow off a little law enforcement steam and a place Sarah was a regular.
I wrote a letter
on a beacon of hope
gave fate the return address
but sadly, I still sit and wait
but sadly, tomorrow never comes
every day is a search
every day a wish
but sadly, nothing is found or returned
some days I see shadows
some nights a mirage
could it be
could it be
could it be
but sadly, none of them are really you
there are moments where I believe
there are moments where I truly feel
that I will see you again in time
as it passes
but sadly, you're still disappeared