Blogmas 2020 Day Thirteen: Mistletoe

Remember when we were kids, and the sporadic, puny feats would make us feel invincible enough to grow up to be anything we wanted? And, there wasn't just one role we anticipated ourselves playing; there were volumes of them. Yes. How's that going, by the way?

As children, we manifest ourselves to ourselves at multiple chances. As we grow - and, I don't mean grow up, but grow older - we tend to do this in our own times; in secret places, behind closed doors. I don't reckon it's the apprehension of being held up to an opinion, and flak all the time, but despondency in our own selves. So, we find ways to create; or, better yet, escape.

I'm aware, I've spoken enough about it, but this place holds a special place in my heart. Deer Park girdles every Sunday morning with my parents, as a kid. It skirts my bunk schedules in college, to hide in a cafe writing, overlooking the lake, and the forest beyond. It contains all my low points, and long walks of woe. It's my bucket of memories, lessons, and peace. I don't give a lot of thought to death, or the impending doom of it. But, I've always deep down known - if I were ever to go to heaven, it would be a silhouette of that Park, with every trail, every dew on every leaf on every misty winter morning.
It is my place where I catalyse, it is my place where I vanish, only to meet myself more often.

For the lack of all the things I never could be, I knew I was always welcome there; without judgement, without question. Oftentimes, we find ourselves in places, people, or in different times of a day.
To each their own.
And, whichever you've picked as your heart's studio or diversion, make sure you have one.
It's difficult enough to live pervasively in reality all the time, as is. Ensure that you have someplace where it's only you, and your heart. Your mind can stay away to think. Find your place, or person where your heart can unload, and breathe. Find a place that's an alibi to your heart's happy.

More tomorrow. Until then. 

Artist: Dmytro Novitskyi

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,
A.