I just finished decorating the tree with Mom. Lance was here earlier. S-’s boycotting Christmas.
I feel partly calm and part very tense, like the vibrations of a very high note on a harp string. Inside of me trembles. The cars are so loud outside. It’s been raining. I love the rain. I want to go out in it, to watch, to play, but I’m here on the couch. Time fades away.
I approach tree decorating like an all-you-can-eat salad bar. A little bit of a lot of things comes out to a reasonable sized meal that doesn’t make me sick. My mom’s philosophy is to take as much of each thing as you can eat, leave nothing behind, and go home feeling like you’re going to die. She did leave one box of ornaments in the garage (thank God), but our tree has 3 other boxes of keepsake ornaments, 4 strings of lights, and about 150 glass bulbs. We’re skipping the garland this year. The star is held on by rubber bands. Our tree tried to commit suicide twice last year. Simple is good. It’s beautiful though – filled with memories.
There’s nothing to distract me. No activities today. Nothing on the calendar. Mom wants me to clean and organize and move boxes. i want to bake and to get out of the house. I’m supposed to be moderately busy, remember? No structure is the death of me.
I’ve been thinking about sidecars…
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010