Friday, December 25, 2015

this christmas

this would be 
the Christmas 
that our children
gave us our past
in DVD without
our even asking.

we sat,
watching our 
younger selves
at just the ages 
the kids are now
maveling at 
how young we looked
and how rested,
at a time when 
we were not.

i had triangular hair
and I thought myself 
though now 
it's questionable. 
at least i was thin.

it is also 
the Christmas
that the soul of
our family 
didn't make it.
and that happens
when december 
feels more like july,
when weather 
and flight schedules
rule our plans.
our Christmas morning 
was not nearly as punny,
with him not here,
we just did not feel

it was the Christmas
that i was reminded
that my father 
once jumped rope
to please (maybe impress)
his grandchildren,
and it was a joy
to rewitness
his conversations
with me
from so many 
years ago.

it was a Christmas, 
when my boy brought
his bride-to-be
and he gave me 
the gift of time
with him,
which is so rare.

and it was the one
when my mother
told the story of
how she met 
my father, and
of the dress she wore
on their first date,
and my daughter found 
the dress
in her closet and
brought it 
down for 
show and tell.

it was also 
the Christmas
when i was 
so busy cooking
i forgot to 
take a picture
of my kids.


it is like
every Christmas:
some sadness.
some joy.
some Christmas.

and writemuch.blogspot is the original work of author susan byrum rountree. all written work and photography is copyright protected and can only be used with written permission of the author.