The story of my Christmas tree

My Christmas tree

I bought this Christmas tree last year.  It is a sad Christmas tree.

To me, it means Spending the Holidays Alone.

It means the coming of cold, dreary, empty days.

It brings back the memory of losing a friend a year ago.

It symbolizes turning my back on the world.

It is a lonely tree.  I bought it by myself, put it up by myself, and enjoy it by myself.

At night, my Christmas tree brightens the room.  With my glasses off, I can glance over at it, and it looks like a bunch of blurry stars in the dark.  Sometimes, I cry, and the stars melt through my tears.

For whatever reason, Puzzle doesn’t seem to see it.  She has long since abandoned the bones that I took from her, the ones I looped with ribbon and placed under the tree.  She doesn’t understand the stockings above the tree, one for me, one for her, and one for the Prophet Elijah, who, though invited to every Passover Seder, never, ever comes.  Maybe cuz it’s the wrong time of year, eh?  Maybe the Prophet Elijah sleeps all winter.  Santa is the Christmas one…oh yes, now I remember.  If Elijah did Christmas, it would be overtime.  Nonetheless, I’ve got the stocking out, in case the shifts are mixed up this year.

 

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