Language isn’t always words —
it’s far more complicated;
not everything in life
can be articulated.
That’s why the things of Christmas
assemble every year,
preserving time and place
we won’t let disappear.
Each family has a history,
hero, legend, fiend;
words fall short, but things
keep them evergreened.
There is nothing in this photo, dear reader, that doesn’t tell a story, including the chunk of mid-century furniture that belonged to my parents. Not everyone celebrates Christmas: I get that. But most people understand how things tell a story, and we probably all have at least one thing tucked away somewhere that says more than words alone can say.
For me to put into words everything said here would require an epic. There are things from my Grandma O’Hern’s house. From my sons’ childhoods. From my bachelor days. From friends, from family. Then to now.
Sometimes meaning is better told without words.
My family’s in the garden
