"the night is still young" nicki minaj 20 of 20 Collision of two households, Christmas has been interesting to say the least. It's not that they haven't ever had a chance to blend (because they have) but that it's not ever been altogether like this. Grandma Virginia swapping recipes in the kitchen, her snow curls piled on her head in an exquisitely done knot. Grandpa Pete helping one of his younger cousins fit together the toy scooter she's gotten. They blend so effortlessly into the stitching of poppy and moma's usual Christmas tapestry. Even with his parents doing their uncomfortable so-civil-we-must-hate-one-another song and dance it's nice. He can almost imagine a world where he and his mother were more properly entitled to all of this. One where the tension of ex wife sizing up ex fling was backed by the legitimacy of marriage and divorce. This year when he sits on the back porch, a rolled joint in hand, he thinks his wants for the one to come are simple. The old cliches. More time with family. Challenge himself more often. Speak what he feels and mean what he says. Mostly what he wants are his guards down and arms open for what's to come. To allow in the risks and not mind scraped knees and torn palms. They are fly in the night thoughts. Reflections that lift into the gauze of smoke rings and disperse in drifts. But he likes the weight and feel of them in his lungs and on his tongue. Maybe he'll forget them by morning, long before the New Year. Maybe he won't.

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