it's coming on christmas
they're cutting down trees
they're putting up reindeer
and singing songs of joy and peace
oh i wish i had a river i could skate away on
growing up under a texas sun meant becoming a summer heat cynic. i’ve never been a summertime girlie – cherishing instead our road trips to the snow-capped cimmaron range and our chosen-family ski trips to crested butte. i lost my first tooth somewhere in a cabin on top of a colorado mountain. i recharge in rainstorms and keep my apartment at a snug sixty-seven degrees.
wintertime is also when i first experienced a ring of bruises around my neck at the hands of a man. the day before thanksgiving some time ago, my stepmom of sixteen years abruptly and abusively left my father. by christmas, his guns had to be taken out of the house. wintertime meant familial warfare as the only child of two divorcees (both of whom love me dearly, i should add, hence the warfare.) winter announces the holiday season which invites next-level grief and unwanted self-exploration. the sun sets at five thirty and every night after, loneliness overstays her welcome.
winter is relentless in her pursuit of repair. she guts our dead vertebrae and re-wrecks our bones so that when we crawl out, we are better positioned for healing. she’s a season of thoughtfulness; of reaching out and rummaging in. she’s a chance, as every season should be, to say it out loud whatever it may be, especially to yourself.
but it don't snow here
it stays pretty green
i'm gonna make a lot of money
then i'm gonna quit this crazy scene
i wish i had a river i could skate away on
---
one of my closest friends recently throws into a conversation that i have an anxious attachment style and she is so right for that. i call her because i know she’ll wipe the floor with me and my noise in a way that still makes me feel worthy and whole. she tells me i’m hunting for reasons to distrust – something i do often and well. she reminds me to acknowledge what is in front of me – “dani, look at the evidence.” – and i remember that winter tickles my tendency to turn off and around and to punch the throttle. so many pairs of six-inch achilles heels and i refuse to let anyone see me sweat. she reminds me that i won’t know if it’s safe unless i’m willing to gamble. she reminds me that if i take the risk, at least there’s a chance i won’t lose.
---
i wish i had a river so long
i would teach my feet to fly
oh i wish i had a river i could skate away on
i made my baby cry
winter is peak making plans without following through.
writing poetry is literally so embarrassing
i say to a friend after scrawling out a ghastly feel-good poem.
this couplet, scrawled:
i kiss you and the swelling stops
i kiss you and there’s jazz
he tried hard to help me
you know he put me at ease
and he loved me so naughty
made me weak in the knees
oh i wish i had a river i could skate away on
i am self-diagnosed self-aware. but intellectualizing your feelings doesn’t mean you've unscrambled the letters. emotional maturity is based on subsequent action and follow-through. you can still disrupt your progression in a hehe / haha / self-aware way.
(for instance, i know that a bloggish online blob littered with creative nonfiction and weird essays and lists and silly poetry and everything from the i perspective is naturally self-absorbed.)
i'm so hard to handle
i'm sеlfish and i’m sad
now i’ve gone and lost the bеst baby
that i ever had
oh i wish i had a river i could skate away on
i let go of caring whether people read anything i write a long time ago. i only care about a solid rhythm and that there are no typos.
(if you ever see a typo, no you don’t.)
---
winter is here and i aim to disassemble my skeleton and unearth equilibrium. i acknowledge vulnerability does not equate to weakness, and my aching need to overdo everything does not flag me as a liability.
my los angeles winter was no winter. and despite endless sunny days, occasional morning fog fixes, and generous friends who tried their best to coax me out of bed, winter was the worst of that era. ever since then, i bathe in her little joys when she’s at her most authentic self – when she’s in the eye of her gloom.
i wish i had a river so long
i would teach my feet to fly
oh i wish i had a river i could skate away on
i made my baby say goodbye
---
a list of holiday things i want to do but probably won’t get around to:
· make a snow angel
· drive around aimlessly surrounded by christmas lights while bumping justin bieber’s drummer boy and sipping hot apple cider
· watch the grinch or a christmas story or elf with someone who will laugh with me
· watch it’s a wonderful life or the holiday or love actually with someone who will cry with me
· finally invest in a christmas tree and decorate it – live and breathe my martha may whovier fantasy
· kiss under mistletoe
· cook an extravagant holiday meal while dancing in the kitchen to frank sinatra
· sing river by joni mitchell
it's coming on christmas
they're cutting down trees
they're putting up reindeer
and singing songs of joy and peace
i wish i had a river i could skate away on
one thing i will do? bake an apple pie.