In the colored lights glowing in December,the the scent of pine in wreaths and trees here I sit sifting through boxes of memories

Shining, sparkling ornaments like ghosts,hanging heavy and each a fragment of laughter,a whisper now muffled,lost between carols and the weight of absence

I remember the way they used to smile,how their laughter would crinkle like wrapping paper,the way mom’s hands danced through the cold,wrapping gifts,and wrapping us in warmth

Outside, people huddle in coats too thick for warmth,their voices blend into a chorus of longing,as they toast to the “happiest season,”while a single tear rolls down,unseen, unspoken,for those who carry the weight of unshared dreams,fractured souls,and the ache of what was,or what could have been

In this season of joy,where the bells ring false and bright,the silence of the lost speaks loudly ,a reminder that for every twinkling light, despair finds its home,and hope feels like an echo,fading into the cold

Yet beneath the layers of sorrow  we must say to the sad and desperate that “you are loved” , you are needed

So let us gather,not just in celebration,but in recognition of the whole,the laughter and the tears,the warmth and the chill

Giving and ,finding life,  love, and taking it beyond the festive façade to the actual place where life dwells