Coming to You From the Happy House

(Virginia Lee Burton’s Masterpiece, The Little House.)

It is holding both truths in two hands, separated by one body…mine. I feel the spear of loss like none other I have felt before, and I feel the freedom and deep happiness for my new life.

No “Merry Christmas” to the two people who gave life to me, and “Merry Christmas” to and from the one I gave birth to and has suffered much along with coming into her greatness.

I could not bring myself to use Mom’s cookie cutters, the ones we had since childhood and I carefully make the grilled cheese sandwich requested by my own child, now a young woman.

No more soap on a rope, neckties, grill accessories or fireplace matches for Dad, and taking the time to read his books, knowing so deeply the home where he read them, treasured them, saved them, and now, they are in my possession and care.

No more twinkle in my Mom’s eyes as she carefully unwrapped each of her daughter’s gifts to her, some handmade when we were younger, and then purchased to meet her unmatched taste and style, and honoring her by spreading heartfelt kindness as well as wearing an outfit Mom would definitely call, “Sharp.”

Holding two truths in two hands, sometimes one heavier than the other, sometimes, one lighter. I am, this holiday season, filled with a joy I have not experienced in many years, and the holes are filled with memories, so bittersweet.

Darkness and light-this is what goes into a masterful drawing, a painting of great talent, and a life.

Tell me of your truths. Write me of your holes and of your joys. You know I’m just going to keep on asking. Someday, when you are up for it, you will and I will be better for reading it here.

Thank you for reading my piece today. May it find you where you are, however you are, and know that I appreciate you spending this time with me.