Alone in the gray of the winter after my son died,
I was irritated and jealous of the people who still had children who still celebrate holidays.
It wasn't fair.
Jingle bells on the radio and in every elevator, friends and family laughing, the well-wishes, the tinseled tree, wrapped and ribboned gifts were too much to bear. Trying to smile—while inside, all I could do was cry.
Like the Grinch, I wanted to steal their joy and make them suffer.
In Whoville they say the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes and he gave back the gifts and food that he had selfishly hoarded.
Now, when I see you, speak to you, or even just have a thought about you,
my heart grows, and when it isn’t so tight, I want to spread the kindness and love I hoarded.
Now I want to celebrate and share in the feast, I also want to help you carve the roast beast.
Desert Dweller 