Veiled from identity

The relentless control is gone, and with it vanished the power. Now what remains resembles a complicated match of hide and seek. Running wildly from one place to another spot. Searching in vain for what is not there and will not be, but is a phantom shadow always present. It taunts and teases, staying just out of reach, its' ghostly touch mocks wickedly as it passes by. Never relenting in its untamed chase from there to here in its lackadaisical way. As if chasing the wind, always felt and the product of its hand is always seen, but yet it is invisible and remains unchained. The redundent pursuit is merciless in its claim for undying consideration.

Prickly

So we went to pick a tree.... not very adveturous this year, just ventured down to tru value and big sister picked the perfect tree. Little sister fell asleep on the way. She picked a rude little scotch pine with sharp prickly needles. He was not happy to be a part of our Christmas celebration, at least not at frist. But regardless of any back talk from the unhappy little wood he was secured to the top of the jeep and carried triumphantly home! There he was trimmed up and placed securely into the tree stand. Then his spirits started to rise at least a little. 600 white lights, 30 red bow, 30 gold bows (very masculine!!) and bright multi-colored shining star, and countless others ornaments to remind us of winter and Christmas time and years gone by made everything ok again. Now he is the talk of the house. The center of every evening. The source of argument about just who might have the right to make the lights light up when evening has fallen. So, we look and remember.... remember why we celebrate this season. Remember all the things we have to be thankful for. Life is good.