I see black when I close my eyes. When I open them, I see a Christmas tree.
It’s evergreen needles and branches are man-made, manufactured in a factory by people who probably think less of imitation Christmas trees. I appreciate their work because the result of their labor is the holiday centerpiece of my living room.
The whole thing is wrapped in red, green, blue, purple, orange, and white lights. Staring at them reminds me of past holidays and tripping over them as I attempted to string them evenly. Losing myself in its glow in recent years brings tears to my eyes.
Your peepers are certain to water if you gawk at the illuminated bulbs. What I’m talking about though is real tears.
Tears for childhood moments you can only relive through deep-thought flashbacks and conversations.
Tears for people who are less fortunate, sleeping outside in the cold under trees with no festive decorations.
Tears for loved who closed their eyes for the last time, a heartbreaking reality for so many during the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020.
Amidst the sorrow and tragedy there have been triumphs. Just waking up each day is a victory. That should be considered a gift.
Set under the brightly lit giving tree are hordes of colorfully wrapped boxes and embellished bags. Opening each one on Christmas morning is like a surprise party.
It seems the older we get the faster Christmas tends to jump out at us. One moment we’re shouting “Happy New Year” and the next we’re hollering “Merry Christmas”. Time moves quickly in one direction. Be hopeful it swiftly brings brighter days. Days as bright as Christmas tree lights.
I see black when I close my eyes. When I open them, I see. |THIS.
[By Mr. Joe Walker]
