merry christmas

It’s a house in the distance, sitting on top of the horizon, and before it is the thin dirt path surrounded by gently swaying grass, stretching from you to this fixed but unknown point in the future. The house remains the same size when you’re looking, when you’re not, out of the corner of your eye, in your peripheral, when you’re awake and when you’re dreaming, asleep. But the distance changes, sometimes very little, and one day you look and it seems within reach, while the next it’s pushed back many miles that you cannot gauge. There are no signposts on this road, no markers to tell you how much farther, or how far you’ve traveled. The fields are always a vibrant green. The only sound you hear is wind swaying the grass, and a quiet that fills an open meadow to the brimful with possibility.

The journey is not solitary. It may feel as such when there is nothing but you, the sky, the clouds, the grass, the house. There are many houses like yours, somewhere you cannot see, or maybe there is just the one, but the journey is not made alone. You are part of someone’s journey, splintered pieces of you that others may carry. A piece of you - the warm weight guarding someone’s heart. A piece of them carried in the space between your lungs. Many moments plucked from time and folded into their pocket. When you are most weary, it takes reminding each day (or minute or hour) that you share the same breath.

Popping in to say Merry Christmas to you and yours. Be safe, live happily, see you in the new year.

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