Dear December.

You are here, and I don't even believe it. I say that every time, but time itself is such a mystical concept. It's here and it's not. You hold onto every second and each one slips away just as quickly as it came. But dulce diciembre, you're the end and the beginning. November was broken and free and familiar places and jazz piano and THANK GOODNESS FINALS ARE OVER, haha. November was heartache for things beyond recognition, beyond the walls of houses and endless state lines. But baby, you're here now, and things are happening. I've seen so many dearhearts and spent time and laughed and lived...and yet you don't feel real; it doesn't feel like a holiday season, but store displays and lit up houses and packed malls prove otherwise. It's not sadness...just some sense of displacement. Please feel real. 

PS I've let go. And I brought out my precious ornament collection, each one from a different era, once hung and cherished on someone else's tree in a different home, a different country even. I hope they were special, I hope there was love and warmth, I hope there was something real to the season and not just something commercialized. I hope there was appreciation. And December, I'm going to love and appreciate every fleeting moment of you. I'm ready. 

PS if you will ever cool off, layers I LOVE YOU (it was 80degrees today, still sported that scarfWHATEV).