Listen to Sasha read the story aloud or enjoy the text below.
The farmhouse is filled with the scent of fresh pine . . .
It is well past the witching hour and I’m awake. Again. I creep downstairs and place a vintage record on the turntable. Handel’s music floats to the drafty corners of the room where translucent cobwebs cling. My sleepy eyes turn to the Christmas tree. I bend, brush away the dry scattered pine needles from the power strip and click the tree lights on.
A strange, uncanny realization hits me as I step back to admire the glow of the tree. We’ve erected our tree in the same spot I’d happened upon a Thanksgiving ghost.
If my ghost was just a glimmer, a wisp of specter smoke, our Christmas tree is bursting, alive and full of energy. Spirits of the season, fiery imps carrying Wands, hop from branch to branch. Pentacled ornaments droop on heaving bows, landing with a soft thud as the tiny creatures crash on each green limb.
The Tower looms high above in clouds responsible for the snow rapidly piling up outside the ancient glass windows. A thumping thunders upon the wooden door. A stranded motorist? I answer, shocked as I see who beckons.
I fall to my hands and knees and offer a tearful prayer of thanks to the Hierophant. He gently pulls me up and plants me on his lap like Santa. He strokes my cheek, tucks my hair behind my ears telling me that we are one and the same. He whispers of the many wonderful lessons to come. I can’t help but giggle. His neck smells like cinnamon and apples.
I can hear Temperance banging pots in my kitchen. Temperance has moved in with me for the next few months. She wants to make sure I don’t spread myself too thin. Temperance is great to have around but always begs for fast food on road trips.
I peak in on my little Ace of Wands, my girl’s sleeping face. Ah, to be five years old at Christmas! I take solace in her slow, deep breath and watch her burrow deeper into her pillows. Four shiny, beaded eyes glisten approvingly as I tuck her soft fox and scrappy dog closer into her.
Visions of this strange, yet wonderful year pass before me. I consider with a thrill of excitement what is to come. I once spent many years and much time predicting and manipulating the future until I realized it was far more effective use of time to simply settle down, focus, and weave the tapestry of the present.
Shadows in the corner of the darkened room move, rearrange themselves. Merging they become one. Blackness becomes deep purple draped over a feminine figure who is white, like the moon. It is the High Priestess come to wish me goodnight!
Morning light sweeps across the floorboards. “Mommy, wake up!!! It’s Christmas.”
Big thanks to Nancy Antenucci who inspired me to repost this tarot tale 🙂