Friday, December 16, 2011

a winter song.

written last week. and tucked away. 
thinking i'll post it tonight - so my mother can take my thoughts with her to fernwood tomorrow.

the grief surprises me sometimes. but as soon as the ache begins – i remember it. i shake my head, bury my head in my hands and take a deep breath. i’ve felt the familiar for a few days now. a heavy quiet  - sitting right on my heart.  i expected it to come with the putting up of lights, the sipping of hot drinks, of mittens and boots. 

i didn’t make the trip this year. my yearly trek over the mountains. for a 9th and 9th shopping trip and christmas card making with my mother.  for lots of reasons, really  - i’m not there this time. am wishing for it, tonight. 
we started our tradition when lucas was a babe. two thousand and seven. i met briana then. at carlucci's bakery. in the back corner table. cath couldn't wait to share her with me. she sipped hot tea and chatted birth and life for an hour or so. the next year was the 'change is coming' house meeting. we exchanged gifts at the salt lake city library. two thousand and nine was a blackwelder booth at the beehive bazaar with in + out burgers after.

last year on these days – i was in that city with my three dearest friends. i’d imagined that we’d have a free night to huddle together at briana’s. that she’d teach us how to make homemade marshmallows and i’d get to share her space with the holiday trimmings up.  we didn’t try very hard to make it happen – other adventures came up and instead of an entire night in her company we got a quick hello as she hurried out the door with my mother on their way to a holiday gift exchange.

a few days later after my friends had gone home to their families – baby charlie and i headed out for The Children’s Hour with my mom in her li’l red mini. bri wanted to meet up with us. to share hot drinks. to snuggle charlie. to catch up for a minute before i headed back to washington. we kept being in just the wrong place at just the wrong time. we kept missing a meet-in-middle. and i wasn’t trying very hard to make it happen, either. i was feeling selfish and wanted my mom to myself - and so it didn’t.
i love looking back in retrospect. to see things for how they were then and how they are now.

i am wishing for a different story tonight. am wishing i was looking back at homemade marshmallows and good music. at tea shared on 9th in mugs with mittens.

tonight the grief came with the words to winter song.
…that you’re not where you belong... inside my arms. 

am wishing that she was with the people she belonged to tonight. 

am wishing that she was with candice. that they’d trimmed that tree together.
that she was with cath tonight. while chuck’s out of town. giggling and tincture sharing. up so late.

am wishing she was with tess and that chubby baby. knitting him some first christmas gifts and making felt birds together.
am wishing she was with rachel and that belly.
and i guess that maybe… she is. 


  1. Lindsay, this is so beautiful. It makes me wish for something that could have been too. I wish we would have had a special night with Briana while we were there. If only we could have seen the future. But, I suppose there are lessons we must learn. Not to push things away for "next time" or "soon".

    I know that I do this all the time, especially with my friendships. I need to recognize those pangs of "I miss you" as a reminder to make time NOW to spend with my dearest friends. I love you and am grateful for you. With tears in my eyes I say lets do lunch on Monday! And, I'll see you tonight :)

  2. wow. what a beautiful post. i'm not even sure what all the details mean exactly; but i realize that you're heavy with sadness about missing a dear one. what a good reminder it is for me to enjoy the moments with the ones i love. thank you for this.

    p.s. i love children's hour, sharing shopping trips and felicity reruns myself. just finished the last season. again. oh she kills me everytime. happy holiday-ing.

  3. Your words are beautiful, Lindsay. Thank you for thinking of me and my belly - I wish she could be here too. We have so many wintry traditions that I'm doing solo this year, and it keeps surprising me how happy it makes me to continue doing them.

    She is here. I have felt her so strongly and clearly many times over the past month, her strength and grace and gentle intensity fill my heart and I know she's here.

    Happy Christmas to you and your family! XO

  4. This was such a beautiful post, Lindsay. And such a beautiful reminder to not let those moments pass us by. I love your heart, Lindsay.

  5. I do it. A rush of missing sneaks up on me and I bury my face in my hands til it passes. What I learned at Fernwood . . .that it's important to keep going. That's the whole point of traditions. What Briana loved she shared so we could love it too. Rachel made the caramels and they were perfect. I found Tartine. Bliss. Briana's light is bursting everywhere.
    Please come back next year Sinny.

  6. Life always seems to bring us new change, maybe this year was just the year to be with your boys, I hope your christmas was wonderful thanks for loving that my family came for me:)

  7. sometimes the grief comes when i think about how much my mom must be missing her best friend. and how heavy that has to weigh on her heart everyday. that's when i'm the most sad.