D E C E M B E R

Today an avalanche of memories

came to visit me disguised as a snowflake

landing on the bridge of my nose.

 

I could shudder from the cold; greet the frigid

air with a furrowed brow, hurrying inside to the

 

calming comfort of Grandma’s essential oils ft.

sugar cookies baking in the oven.

 

Instead, I find myself facing

outwards at December,

Looking for traces of you.

 

Burying myself into a sweatshirt of yours

that I should’ve thrown away

last year.

 

Using my bare feet to find puddles

of tears where your snowy boots left footprints

on my porch.

 

Holding onto thoughts of you

like Christmas, I finally

 

admit to myself:

 

Your lights

are still up

in my yard.

 

Lauren Mitchell