Pine needles
100 words
I don’t put tinsel away alone. I need someone else there as the baubles and lumps of mishapen history are put back in their boxes. Like a human handrail, it will stop me from slipping, flailing, into a pit of all the things that happened since that giant plastic jewel was bought in a ‘mall’ in Florida, or when my child (ashamed, I can’t remember which one) presented the painted wooden star. Look what I made, mum! The mirror-encrusted bauble, bought for the first Christmas of a new life: A life that refused to go where I wanted it to.
