All for a man who breaks in illegally
Christmas time is almost here.
Houses decorated, holiday cheer.
Black Friday shopping, gift deals.
Parent’s stress, budgets stretched.
Kids making their Christmas lists.
Elf on the shelf, a mistletoe kiss.
Presents wrapped, secretly hid.
Put up the tree, ornaments amid.
Following our family traditions.
Baking cookies, new Green dishes
Candy canes, family visits
Chronicling an adult’s Christmas.
Eagerly waiting for St. Nicholas.
Emera
Emera.
Goddess of hate.
Child of the demons.
Mistress of evil.
Her eyes flit to where I stand. Her anger seething from her like steam. We lock eyes, but even I know that it would be stupid to have a contest with an immortal.
“And to think you would dare defy me!” She proclaims, moving her gaze from me and towards the hundred others gathered.
We tremble at her voice. No one dares to speak in fear of angering her even more so.
“ What should I do to remind you that you will not cross me,” she muses, her eyes changing between grey and blue.Her face beautiful, flawless, but the smile that stretches across her face is one of pure evil. “Yes, I shall take three of you to serve me until your mortal days are over or until I decide you are no use to me anymore.”
Mothers grab their small children close to their bodies, men stand in front, trying to protect a hopeless situation. Whoever Emera wants she will get. Nothing and no one is stronger than her.
Her eyes wander around and she settles on a small girl with two braids. The girl looks terrified, but she stands up tall, in a defiant way. Emera never moves nor does the girl, but in seconds the girl is standing before the goddess, so small compared to the giant.
The next she chooses is a boy, tousled hair, yet strong. She chooses with purpose, not carelessly. Her eyes come back to me and I look down quickly.
Please don’t choose me. Please don’t choose me. And yet no matter how much I plead a soft whispering fills my head and in seconds I am before Emera, so insignificant compared to this beautiful goddess.
I no longer know my fate, it’s in the hands of a goddess who is full of darkness and hatred.
Respect
Tradition for me doesn’t always have to do with the holidays but rather the mechanics of how my family functions, how and why we do the things we do, etc. For this response, I wanted to share one of those instead of something pertaining to a day like Christmas or Thanksgiving.
My dad, being from Asia, is very strict about this and everyone in my family has followed.
Every time we drive by a cemetery or gravesite, we completely turn off the music or podcast we’re listening to through the car as a sign of respect and reverence for the dead. It’s a kind gesture and I like the idea of it, as well as everyone else in my family, so we’ve decided to collectively keep it going.
No one knows that we’re doing it, nothing is making us turn our volumes down. We are doing this of our own free-will, because something has gripped us into wanting to do what we think is right. That’s tradition. That’s tradition in its purest form.
The next time you drive or pass by a cemetery, think about this post. You don’t have to turn your volumes down like we do, but respect those that have come and gone and keep each gravestone you see in your heart. In this way, we can create a tradition of our own.
