Sleeping on the Couch

You'd think at Christmas I could write something uplifting...  I mean, I'm so filled with happiness so much of the time...with so much joy that it seems like one heart can't hold it all.  So when do I decide to write?  When I'm sad, and alone.  And lonely.  When I'm nobody's favorite anything.


I'm sleeping on the couch out here where I can see our Christmas tree.  It's a beautiful tree.  It's the most beautiful tree.  Covered in white lights and ribbon.  I can see our ornaments.  Mine, from the year I was born, from my childhood Christmases, my growing up years, my adult married years, and my most recent Christmases.  And all the gift ornaments we've gotten over the years...the ornaments we've bought for the kids, one for each year of their lives, which they will take with them when they go to start their families.  It's a great tradition.



I'm sleeping out here on the couch because I'm up too late and I don't want to bother John by coming to bed.  I stayed up way too late working on Christmas.  On cookies, because that's all I can do for my friends, the ones who make my life worth living.  The ones that make my world a better place with their smiles.  On special projects that give me happiness to work on.


I'm sleeping out here on the couch because my side of the bed isn't ready for me.  It's covered with clothes that need to be folded and put away, and with wrapping paper and ribbon and scissors and tape and tags.  I didn't finish anything today, and if I go in and clear it off now, I will bother John.  And I don't want to do that.


But I took my pillow.  And Bradley the bear.  And took Charlie's extra comforter.  And I will sleep out here on the couch.  Where I can see my beautiful tree.  And look out at the lights of other houses and homes.  And I can sniff without disturbing anyone.  And listen to the sounds of the house.  And once I've thought way too much about everything, I can tell myself that tomorrow is another day and there will be joy, again, in the morning.  Sleeping on the couch has a bad connotation, but this is right.  And okay.