I remember snowflakes, as big as goose feathers, falling from a sky so blue. Clouds so white and pillow like, I was sure they were big balls of cotton thrown by handfuls into the crisp, winter air.1
The smell of Grandma’s cornbread and sugar cookies filled the air around our house. An intoxicating aroma, that even to this day if I think hard enough, I’m transported back to another time, another age. I remember Grandma’s big, down comforter, lying on the overstuffed sofa, dreaming of that magic moment when Santa would arrive.2
Grandpa would be softly cursing the Christmas lights as they caused static on the radio every time they blinked and danced across the Christmas tree. I remember sitting on his lap in the big armchair he called home, sipping his eggnog and transporting me to Christmas’s gone by with the stories that he told.3
Mom’s Christmas dinner with all the trimmings it was always enough to feed us for a full year in one sitting. All the love she baked into every pie, making at least one of every body’s favorite. Mom taught us all the words to our favorite Christmas carol, but we would still only sing the first verse over and over again. I remember Mom’s patience.4
I remember Dad and our new house and how he always filled it with joy. His excitement seemed to take him back to his own childhood right before our eyes. Dad’s frustration as he tried to get the Christmas tree straight enough for Mom’s eagle eye.5
My brothers, sisters and myself, with our ears glued to the radio and eyes to the window. Listening for Santa’s whereabouts and watching for Rudolph's red nose glowing in the nighttime sky.6
I remember staring at our Christmas tree for hours on end until I could see every light long after my eyes were closed and my head was laid to rest on my pillow for the night.7
Most of all, I remember Christ in all his humbleness. What he gave so that we may receive. I remember his life and death with every breath I take. Everyday, when I put pen to paper, I remember his gift to me.8
Looking back, I can’t seem to remember the Christmas toys I received. Although always appreciated and enjoyed, somehow they just got lost along the way. Now that I’m older with children of my own, I hope that their memories are of the same fabric from which mine were woven.9
With the frailty of life, we lose many things throughout the years. Treasured people become treasured memories.10
As broken toys clutter the landfills of the earth, may our untarnished memories fill the recesses of our hearts.11
So, as the Yule fire consumes the paper that wrapped the material part of the holiday, may it in turn burn the true meaning of Christmas into our lives for all the years to come. 12
Peace Abel13
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Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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pillow-like, I'm transported=transports me to . . . radio, every time, as they blinked etc. dinner came with all the trimmings . . . but Dad was still left frustrated (with the tree) etc. Hope this helps! - oce
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You mqde a couple of mistakes here, but this was pretty good. If you want to know where the mistakes are, IM me and I'll tell you everything. Just be sure to tell me the name of the poem again, else I'll forget!
- oce
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It is really a heartfelt work revealing the strength of the memmories in the life through and through., The description of the write have beautifully stating the depth of the write in details brining the flaVour of the subject very truely. The beauty of the write lies in its overall concept of the subject which is very soft and accordingly handeled very delicately. The flow of the write is very impressive and just to the point too. I relly appreciate this work.prabhudayal khattaR
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awesome poem, i really liked it, was amazing, thanks for writing, you are really good at it, i really liked this, maybe sometime you could check out some of my poem and leave comments on them, tell me if you like my poems or not, thanks for writing, x x
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I love listening to your memories. You speak of feeling transported by them...but even better yet...with your words, you transport the reader there as well. At least, i felt like i could have been there...hearing, smelling, seeing it all...
Your words touch the heart...a comforting reminder of what it is all about...and even moreso...seeing it all again through the eyes of a child. And that is what brings that warm feeling.
Wonderful!
Ann
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merry
Bless you, for this poem is going into a chritmas book of poems to give my daughter. I hope you do not mind if I bookmark for this purpose. Merry Christmas to you and family. -
Amen Abel. The True Meaning indeed.
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