And he says, maybe I’ll keep ya.

On the low for when times I feel like wasting time alone.

And, maybe, maybe I’ll please ya,

or get kind of crazy.

December is dense, dense with memories. Memories of joy, sadness, fear, and everything in between; They’re memories that took me years to comprehend, understand, and move on from.

Some years, I love December.

I love the way I can curl up on the couch with a book, a cup of tea, an over-sized sweater, candles, and string lights. I love the crisp morning air and the way the sun plays peekaboo through the clouds. I love seeing my family around the dinner table, laughing about stories of the past and appreciating the privilege of being able to spend the holidays in each others company. In those moments, I love December.

Some years, I hate December.

I hate the way everything is shoved into one month. Christmas, New Years, the endless masquerade of holiday parties and family friends I didn’t know existed. I hate the cold nights when I lie awake in my room wishing I had someone to spend the holiday with. I resent the fact I never had the chance to believe in Santa Claus or put up a Christmas tree. In those times, I hate December.


This year, I’m starting December with someone I love, and I’m going to set up my first Christmas tree.

I think this is going to be one of my December loving years.


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