To: Mom From: Alex in QUOTIDIEN

It’s almost Christmas, Alex. The tree looks like it was drug up the side, and set atop the mound of beautifully decorated packages. There are so many, I wonder if we didn’t try and buy our way out of sadness this year. Your sister has really been working at setting the scene, spending countless hours wrapping, arranging and rearranging packages. Though I can no longer see an empty spot beneath the tree, the gaping hole where you should be threatens to swallow me whole.
I sit and stare at this tree - at the giftscard-green-christmas-tree-hand-drawn-35663489- at the spaces between, and I am suddenly overcome by a flood of memories that wash down my cheeks, and soak into my collar. How you would throw back your head and laugh, give and receive teasing in good fun and equal measure, or find me in the kitchen to give me a hug me and tell me you loved me. Fast and furious they come now: your church camp trips, pulling up cattails by the pond, laughing at/with me over raising diapered house ducks, wrestling with your brothers…with your sister!, bonfires, broken windows and fingers and elbows. Your birth, playing with Bear, placing yourself between others and danger, your service to our country and how it changed you, your quirky friends, your dedication to Jenni…your tears.
Time for me to get up and refresh my coffee, Love. Know what I just noticed? Beneath the tree and between the shiny bows and sparkly gifts, I see what can only be meant for me. It is the surreal glow of the essence of you, seen through my tears. Your present is your presence. Thank you so much, sweetie. I needed this.
Merry Christmas, Alex.

I love you.
Mom