POETRY WAR: The Wonder
My Christmas treasure,
the glow of a child’s wonder
pouring through her eyes.
At Christmas time, I’m usually visiting my son, sister or daughter. Otherwise, it’s just another holiday to avoid– for those of us who want to remain sane.
With all his many amazing gifts and talents, my husband is not enthralled with the waste of cutting trees, the useless baubles, and zombie-like gift givers carelessly speeding down the road in 2 ton weapons who are trying to find the perfect last-minute gift.
The haphazard and thoughtless placement of shopping carts, along with slow shoppers who clog the 20-items-or-less checkout with 40 items (most of which need a price check) when the rest of us just want to get an item off the shelf and get out of the store, unfortunately, can make a grouch out of anyone.
I sent my sister a catsatthebar.org t-shirt and a Zen mug for Christmas. She’s happy to hear that part of the profits go to an animal shelter, but she’s still threatening to find the worst possible gift imaginable and send it to me. That usually backfires for both of us. One year, I bought her a black scarf with red chili pepper designs all over it. The scarf turned out to be her favorite for years. She bought me a pair of pink flamingo socks, which I still treasure.
But the Christmases past that I remember the most fondly were with my children and my granddaughter that first year they stood in the stores staring at the lights, tinsel and plastic trees filled with ornaments.
The love in those moments, the remembrance of joy! Each Christmas Carol felt like a warm fire on a cold night as we sang together and watched the old Lionel electric train go round our Christmas tree.
Maybe that’s why I can forget what I had for breakfast 2 days ago, but I can still sing the first stanza of any Christmas Carol no matter how long it’s been since the last time.