Roasting on the Coast

It is Christmas morning, and I am not roasting in the literal sense. I am roasting in the spiritual, emotional sense, if one is able to do that. Surrounded by my childhood/youth hood things...a doll stared at me as I was falling asleep (which might have something to do with my crazy dreams), I tried on my old prom dress again (JUST squeezed it on) and found some cool, clunky 1990's mary jane shoes. And so, for protection, I put my boyfriend's photo on the bedstand, read a book I am reading for a book club out West, shoved the creepy doll in a drawer, and tried to sleep. Okay, here is a moment of confession...i felt a little, well, spooked. I was the only one sleeping up there, and the last thing I found while rummaging through my old closet was a well-preserved wedding dress that I assume was my now-deceased grandmother's. I also must confess something else. It wasn't my prom dress that I squeezed into: it was my mother's wedding dress. It's different coming home now. With ghosts and hopes.