Family Christmas

Today was Family Christmas. It wasn't planned at all, but I think the combination of wanting to give  each other our gifts, and sitting around the table enjoying a Mill Mountain breakfast, we just couldn't wait any longer. It was a great morning that stretched into the afternoon. We drank coffee and ate croissant sandwiches. We sat on the floor in pjs and exchanged gifts while listening to Sufjan Stevens Christmas music. Mog got a busy bee and his first taste of kitty crack (aka: catnip), John got nurds and stikurs, I got the Barack Obama children's book and Brett is now officially a part of 'Hero Squad' (look at shirt, family). We really had a wonderful morning. 

As things were winding down, Reid came by and John gave him his guitar. I'm excited about all of us being able to learn and play music together!  Later, Reid left to meet Holly, John packed to go to Charlottesville, then DC to meet Donny and bring Luke back to our place for the holidays. I can't wait to meet Luke knowing he was such a huge part of that Gypsy's life last year. Brett went to Aunt Lee's for dinner and the house here has been quite for about three hours. 

This evening, I used the quiet of the house and the spare time I had to clean up for when John and Luke get back. (Brett and I will be gone by then, but we'll see them after Christmas.) I remembered there's a sweet jacuzzi tub upstairs and took advantage of it. I took an online banjo lesson, played and practiced piano, did a crossword puzzle, and now I'm drinking a Boddingtons. The record player is on Bon Iver, Mog is napping in Brett's office chair, and I am feeling settled, content, and warm with my home and family in Roanoke.

To my favorite guys around: I wish all of you a relaxing Holiday with the people you love most, and a New Year filled with new experiences and fulfilled dreams! 

3 poems

(1)
I fell onto you in mixed memories and dreams.

I saw spotted sand on beach porches and softness;
You remember being pillowed in new down comfort.

When night drifts in and waking weighs heavy, I turn over to curled toes that I remember encountering for the first time.

I saw a man with legs crossed and peace on his brow. He talked to me about the weather and I loved him.

Adventure itches my side and crawls up my leg. We found it today in autumn clouded fingerprints on boughs bent towards icebox harvest warmth. I slept for minutes by peace’s command. I woke swaying beside you and you gave me the gift of surprise.

You painted melted fire on a canvas of misery. I walked on one drip and my toes and heels were stained. I stepped home and fell on your heels. I saw a scar of calcium swollen and soft and suggestive.

I hum along with you and put cigarettes in my bag. My lashes look like fringe on Eskimo cheeks; soft pricks on white warmth. And new memories of cuddled fingers brush my skin as I fold within you.

(2)
Once I stood where hands fell hard.
Now, I stand on edge with slight held palms brushing slight jagged slopes.
Then, I told friends of far off places clutching angels with whiskey on their tongues.

If I paint the lives of chance and survival, I find family and canvas.
When colors streak in crooked combed rows,
and lines close up are desert colors mingled,
family gardeners hold wooden columns parallel, and error bends them.

Now I find soft touch in fingertips with short nails that tap ivory to print and ink.
Once I heard that music, and then I touched sound.

(3)
He turned letters to words with gentle hands.
And then an empty mattress lined the hardwood floor.

When I remember loneliness in small cities,
I see brick lined walks with families and full tables.

There’s a wall with hope written in languages of mingled letters.
There’s tea and music and book lined walls.

But I found, folded on wooden floors, skin like paper creased into fragile objects.