You Could Make This Place Beautiful

by Maggie Smith

I woke up that morning around 7:00 as usual. Our shared parenting agreement stipulated that the children would be dropped off at my house at noon. Five hours. I could do this. Downstairs I turned on the Christmas lights, let the dog out and filled her bowl with food, then went back upstairs to put on my winter running clothes. I did my best to outrun my sadness, my usual playlist cycling through Prince, Metric, Talking Heads, Neko Case, The Clash. I took my favorite route around my neighborhood, passing houses lit with Christmas or Hannukah lights, and the one plastic nativity with Joseph tipped over in the grass, Mary and the baby Jesus still upright, managing on their own. (Tale as old as time, I thought to myself.)