Where christmas reminds me of so many things
And the poetry grows with each memory
I see.
In childhood the lights and the crocheted bells
My grandmother made
Where there was only one left after my parents house
Flooded away like a memory
Of christmas.
The visits.
The gate left open so it was easy to drive in
A welcome mat.
A memory.
And now the same meals
The same turkey
The same family
Less my father.
The man who made everyday christmas.
My real life santa Claus
Though i rarely asked him for things i wanted.
They magically appeared
And as i grew older through the years
He was the gift i wanted most.
More time.
To get into his truck.
To watch the sun rise.
To watch the sun set.
To take pictures of absolutely nothing
But time.
Where christmas reminds me of so many things.
My daddy reminds me of mine.
