Silent night

These things may never fit together, or make sense, but that doesn’t mean they will stop happening. 

It’s Christmas Eve, do you know where your children are?
I’m on the couch in front of the fireplace eating cheese quesadillas and drinking reheated coffee I made in my roommate’s chemex. I don’t have any cholula, but I supplement with my roommate’s srirchacha. My mouth is hot from the spice and then another hot from the coffee. A Christmas Alone– finally the Christmas I’ve been working for, dreaming of. No gifts to buy or wrap, no new traditions to learn or practice, no shitty food to pretend to enjoy. None of that weird dread hanging in the air–will this be the year that…?

Instead I sit on the couch, watching The Fits. I shoveled snow three times yesterday. Whoever decided to to snow blow the block at 2am had an easier time of it. This house is one of the best things to happen to me this year. I braved the snowstorm last night–big, wet flakes. I drove to Cafe Chanson, a place that feels more like mine with each time I post up at the bar. Rebecca voiced relief at my arrival. My memory is fuzzy, after 1 then 2 Oktoberfests and a shot of whiskey with Rebecca. She shared her burger with me and the fries were crunchy and delicious. Aaron the chef came out eventually and sat with me. He seemed tired, agitated. I had moments to myself at the bar, watching the others, watching the keyboardist, watching Rebecca serve drinks and dish it back to the patrons. I have all this time to myself. I answer my housemate’s text in between comments to Rebecca and Aaron. I drive home in the snow and leave my things willy nilly around the house. My phone on the tortillas. My keys on the bench. My rugelach in my jacket pocket. It feels so good to be alone. Alone in the house, alone in the world.


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