a christmas diary

as i timidly open my eyes, the sound of the rain pattering quickly transforms into chaos hitting the earth, as if hurriedly quenching the thirst of the soil. the sun hides behind the clouds knowingly so, as it is christmas week and the city wishes to get in the holiday mood. the sun gives the clouds center stage, and it puts on quite the performance.

a hot cup of caramel coffee welcomes me to the day. i light the christmas candles, the décor goes up in november so they’re half melted by this time. the smell of cinnamon spice engulfs the house. i open my laptop, my thoughts orchestrated by the rainfall on this cloudy december morning. the white tree summoning me to bask in the memories of christmas past, to what seemed like yesterday. i try to retrieve my brain to focus on the page in front of me, but i give in.

i walk down memory lane to my high school and college days. my mind takes me back to our home up the hill in snowy oregon. dad always wanted a white christmas tree, so one day after a trip to his favorite place on earth, costco, he brings home an 8 footer “this will be our family tree”. the white christmas tree standing tall in the corner of our living room, as if tucked away in the hills of the town, illuminating the dimly lit room. it was magical. then came time for the decorating: mom and I picked out our favorite ornaments, my dad used his long tree trunk arms to place them at the very top of the tree, and the three of us decorated the center and bottom. tuffy took a seat at the foot of the tree, watching us while wagging his tail, and squeezing a few snoozes in by the crackling december fire. the faint sound of the gas boiling the chai tea, it shoots up to the top of the pot as if its feet were burning on hot coils, mom slows the gas, then once again it shoots up nearly spilling over. the chai is then lovingly poured into tea cups, filled to the top. we gather around the fire and share stories to the sound of the winter showers. I mentally exit our oregon living room to the sound of my family sharing jokes and taking sips of their tea. til next time, i will be back when feel like reliving those memories again, but my mind will depart when the nostalgia transforms into sadness and it often does given that’s the only place i see dad now.  

so here I am, admiring the white christmas tree; a little token from the past, a little piece of my dad. 

we’re all adventuring through life, collecting moments to etch into our minds that we, one day, will relive. yet, we don’t choose the scenes in our films, the scripts are written by god.