A Soft, yet Merry, Christmas Eve!

It’s well after nine ~
I settle into my bed

Hope for the morrow
runs through my head

For time that ticks on
Christmas Eve has now come

Hope for a kind sleep
To soft night I succumb.

“Yea, all things live forever, though at times they sleep and are forgotten.”

~ H.Rider Haggard, She

Without Thought

My feet carry me
step by step
no complaint
except maybe at the end of a day
after running or walking
while the rest of me multi-tasks

My feet carry me
without being asked or knowing
how to take steps
whether to take steps
why my feet work the way they do.
without hope that they will work.

My feet carry me
but not to a mirror
to make certain of a correct image ~
mirror’s are reserved for faces and hairdo’s
while my feet are wrapped in socks and shoes
or if they’re lucky, in sandals and sunshine.

My feet carry me
through my life
up mountains, across prairies
on beaches or in the desert.
at work or at play
no questions asked.

“The foot feels the foot when it feels the ground.”

~ Buddha

A Christmas to Remember

A Christmas to Remember 

The first sentence was the writing prompt for the short story that follows ~ 

“As he flicked through the letters, a small handwritten envelope caught his attention and his heart began to thump. A usual pile of bills and junk mail, few people took the time to write letters anymore. The handwriting was familiar. A long ago familiarity. The envelope, yellowed with age, was postmarked December 18, 1976. A sterling silver letter opener slid easily under the sealed flap. Inside, a simple card showed a deep winter scene, an old log cabin against a backdrop of pines. The words were as simple. ‘I’ll be home for Christmas’.  Joshua smiled. Pushing away from his desk, he stood up and called to his wife. “Martha, remember the Christmas of 1976?”

“Yes dear. What about it? That was quite a while ago, Josh.”

Joshua put the Christmas card down on the counter where his wife was creating their dinner.

“Oh my! Where did you get that?! That looks like my writing.” Martha wiped her hands on her apron and picked up the card.

“It is your writing, sweetie. It was 1976. We had been married just under a year. You had to be away for a two month stint on some journalism assigment. We both hoped so much that we’d be together for our first Christmas.When I didn’t hear from you - no cell phones then, and we couldn’t afford long distance - I was worried sick. I was certain you had left me. So there were no Christmas decorations up. I was just sitting sad and feeling sorry for myself. “

“Oh Joshua. Now I do remember everything. You were so surprised when I came bursting in the door with presents. And you looked dreadful!”

“And here we are forty years later. Still in love and you are as beautiful as ever.”

Martha's Christmas card fluttered to the floor. Outside, snow fell softly. 

“When we recall Christmas past, we usually find that the simplest things 

- not the great occasions - give off the greatest glow of happiness.”

~ Bob Hope

Port in the Storm

Shadows were deep in alleyways. Fingers of shredded moonlight clawed between derelict buildings. Driving rain washed ancient cobblestones, streets and walkways. Huddled in a doorway a young man and his dog tried in vain to avoid the wild damp. Burning trash barrels sputtered and drowned. As the wind died down, the only sound was a midnight choir. Hark the Herald Angels rose above the rain, deep tenors and bass in harmony. A lone light burned inside one of the buildings. A barely legible sign read Hope’s Harbour.

“It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air.”

~ W.T.Ellis

February 02, 2024

Author's note: this writing exercise was 'setting a scene'. I chose a photo to write from. 

It's Personal ~ 1

It's Personal

Papers were stacked everywhere. Christmas was coming in three days. The only decoration was a slender glass vase with candy canes in it. It was on the window sill behind the curtains. 

Sam was depressed. She had too much to do and her manuscript should have been in to the publisher the week before. It was horrible. Terrible. The only things on TV were the sloppy Christmas chick flicks. 

This had to stop! Sam was determined to get through Christmas without her own sloppiness. Stopping Christmas was a job too big. She could just close her curtains and stay home until January, but that sounded too boring. She would finish her manuscript! Sigh. ‘I will not cry! Or be angry! But I feel sad and angry. And I’m talking to myself!’ 

Rummaging in her closets and under her bed for the rest of the decorations, she muttered. ‘I might as well get them out and start decorating.’ Sitting on the floor she opened the first box. ‘Wow. There’s the crystal icicle that my children gave me in 1992. And that little brass bell…….and what’s this? I had forgotten about all these beautiful Christmas cards.’ Sam lost herself in all of the memories. An hour later, there were still no decorations hung. The Christmas tree was out of it’s box, but lay on it’s side waiting to be plugged in. Sam had hoped that this year she’d be able to get a real tree, but her actions were weaker than her hope. The other decorations were scattered around her on the floor. She had found her Christmas mug. Hugging her favourite snowman cup of chai tea to her, she leaned up against the wall and smiled. 

Sam never really believed in the religious part of Christmas. She kept quiet about that part of her life. But she loved the history to this season. And her own history was part of the Christmas she enjoyed. She smiled and stood up. Stiffly -  because when you’ve been sitting on the floor for an hour reading through memories, stiff is part of the deal.

When she went to bed that night, her fake tree glowed with blue electric lights. All the little ornaments decorated the tree. Old Christmas cards were strung across the living room window. Her favourite Saint Nicholas was set up on the mantel. Sam slept well that night.

“All true meaning resides in the personal relationship 

to a phenomenon, what it means to you.”

~ Christopher McCandless

Choosing Magic

This will be short
No Christmas bells
Keep the Christmas trees just trees
Songs - only on the radio - which I can turn off.
Any hope for joy in this world is just a dream.

Some people don’t like Christmas
And there are many good reasons.
Some do seem just Grinchy - or is that Scrooge - or both?
Each bright sparkly bit of Christmas - music, giving and receiving, laughter
are the things I like about what can be a beautiful magical time.

“Sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in life and take things for granted.”

~ Karli Perrin, The Gift

Last Tree on the Lot

Last Tree on the Lot

It was the last tree on the lot. Jerry was closing up. Traffic had slowed to almost nothing. Just one car had gone by in the last half hour. Jerry’s pick-up was the only one parked on the street. Street lights blinked stop and go. A dog barked once in the distance. A clear night, Jerry could see stars sparkling and twinkling in the blackened, moon-lit cold.

Jerry turned out the string of lights circling the lot, then the neon sign at the front. He was about to get in his pick-up and drive home to his quiet apartment. Something stopped him. He had to straighten up that last tree. He couldn’t leave it just lying there, in the icy puddle of snow and water. Dirty water that would freeze over in the night, crusting it with snow. ‘Ah, its just a tree. Leave it and get out of the cold.’ Talking out loud, even quietly, in the cold night, the words hung in the air. Jerry looked around to see if anyone was there. Only a well furred tabby was padding across the quiet street. It didn’t even look up.

‘I’ll just straighten it up.’ Jerry picked up the small, misshapen tree, trimmed the trunk at the base and put it in the vacated tree stand that looked just as lonely.

‘Can’t leave ‘em just like that.’ From the back of his truck, Jerry pulled out an old trunk. After digging around in it he pulled out a string of lights, a garland, a few Christmas balls and an old star. ‘I spent this much time getting the old tree off that dirty snowbank, decoratin’ it won’t take much longer. Home’ll still be there waitin’ for me.’ Jerry had pulled his gloves off so he could set to work and make it quick. He rubbed his hands together, blew on them to warm them a bit. When he was done decorating, he stood back to look at his handy work. ‘Guess that’s good enough’. He plugged the lights into the socket for his neon sign. Stepped back again. ‘Yep.’ 

He put the trunk in the pick-up, tipped his cap to the last tree on the lot. In the back of his mind, all along, he had a hope. ‘Joe and Mary should be by here on their rounds pretty quick, and then Liam and after that those other three guys - can’t remember their names. Hope I’ve given them a little bit of Christmas on these cold ol’ streets. That’s the best I can do for ‘em’. He patted the pile of blankets under the tree.

Jerry climbed in his pick-up. ‘Come on, Bessy, I know you’re cold. There ya’go.’ Jerry let his old friend warm up a bit, turned on his headlights and set out for home.

“Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before! 

What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. 

What if Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!”

~ Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas

Author's note: Edited February 02, 2024