i got the tree today. from my canadian tree farmer. just over the hill.
i walked home hugging the bundle close against my chest--my stomach. the wind whipping off the hudson burning my exposed hands. i nestled into the green and felt safe, warm.
as i looked around my room yesterday, it struck me that the only thing missing was a christmas tree. for 'tis the season and there's nothing i enjoy so much as the scent of pine and the twinkle of lights.
the thing about this summer is that there was a point when i felt stripped of all freedoms. it was no one's fault. not my own. not that of those around me--in fact i will never forget the goodwill and kindness of many--just a strange, unfortunate congruence of events.
i had no way to get from here to there. no room of my own. no space to stake a claim to and declare as private. i was constantly exposed, without the needed escape. so i started taking showers. often. because those few minutes with the water running down and washing me clean were mine and mine alone. i would then take the time to dry my hair (not something i usually enjoy) because it allowed me to stretch the minutes in that tiny, enclosed space where no one could follow.
it was a lesson in returning to the basics. in finding the great pleasure in the simplest of things. many an afternoon found me holding a warm coffee mug. i don't think i ever got past two sips into the thing--i simply wanted it for the warmth between my hands: a universe unto itself, an opening of space in which to seek solace.
perhaps this is why my room, more than ever before, has new meaning--new importance. why i was so struck in the second reading of eat, pray, love by liz gilbert's transformation of her apartment into something of a hospice. why i now take frequent baths--remaining in the water just long enough to soak myself warm. or indulge in hot cocoa late in the evening. perhaps this is why i finally bought a humidifier after years of putting it off due to expense. or why i now can justify fresh flowers every two weeks. why when the friends and family anthropologie sale happened this last go-round i bought pillows and candles as opposed to blouses and bowls. why for christmas i'm asking for a bed skirt (and maybe a new window treatment?).
sometimes it all seems so silly and frivolous--the import i place on such things--how vital they are to my existence.
but on this morning i'm not gonna worry too much about that.
because on this morning i'll sit in my corner, read my book, and allow scent of candles and fresh pine to fill me.
for christmas is coming and i have found a home.