a Christmas tree is in my home. I don’t really know what to feel about it. There are so many emotions swirling through my mind and heart that I find it nearly impossible to separate them. There is, first and foremost, the pure joy of having a lighted tree in my house that I am moved to tears, over and over, moved to tears. The smell of cedar permeates the very existence that I know. The lights blink, fade and flash, making me wonder if perhaps I am having a spell of some sort. I have only lights on the tree as anything else seems to take away from the beauty. I am enamored and find myself staring, nearly hypnotized by the purity of that which is before me.
I hadn’t really planned on having a Christmas tree. It has been so long and the thought made me feel sad and anxious along with a myriad of other emotions and to be perfectly honest, I was afraid. Afraid of the thoughts it would provoke and the memories it would invoke … but as I look at and dream with the lights, I realize that it is not made of things past or memories best left unearthed, but perfect beauty. I am awed by what I see and know that the memories I am making are my own, not those that are carried over from time past, but mine. I don’t know that I have, before now, had memories that didn’t include someone else, memories that, in my heart, belonged only to me. But now I do, and so I will cherish them. I can’t say for certain that when Christmas comes around next year, I will have a tree, but I hope I will. I hope for many things and hope is a good thing … maybe the best of things. As long as hope is alive, no good thing ever dies. I am grateful. I am thankful. I am content. I find that being content is, without doubt, one of the greatest feelings ever. Yes, there are people I am missing in my life, friends that I seem to have lost touch with, loved ones who are far away, but contentment is something that comes from within. It has little to do with the outside world and everything to do with how I feel when I am alone. Being alone does not have to be coexistent with being lonely. I am not lonely. I am, at times, confused, and possibly discombobulated, but not lonely. I have everything I need right here. Yes, I am content; a beautiful thing indeed.