Alexander Lovell

I missed two weeks. Not on purpose. Just happened. One week bled into the next and I didn’t write and honestly? It felt good. My creative soul needed the break. I missed you, yes. But I needed the quiet more. And now I’m back with a single word I can’t stop thinking about: majesty. Not the royal kind. The other kind. The Oxford definition is “impressive stateliness, dignity, or beauty,” but that doesn’t quite capture what I mean. Last weekend I beheld beauty so striking it left me speechless.

The Christmas tree at Trolley Square has stopping power. It is massive—twenty feet tall, maybe more—and dominates the side atrium of Trolley Square. Lights everywhere, ornaments catching the afternoon sun through the skylights in that specific way department store trees do. We’d just walked in. Black Friday. The place was decorated and festive, smaller trees lining the hallways, cheerful music playing over the speakers. I could hear carolers somewhere in the distance.

I’m grateful for someone who doesn’t exist yet. Not in the metaphorical sense… not grateful for “future possibilities” or “what’s to come.” I mean literally: there’s a version of me I haven’t met, and I’m learning to thank him before he arrives. This is not how gratitude is supposed to work, but here I am doing it anyways. I’m learning there are three people I need to thank. The man in the raised garden beds, rehearsing a life he couldn’t have yet.