Monday, November 28, 2005

Month before Christmas

'Twas a month before Christmas; Mom was calm and serene. She'd do Christmas right and she wouldn't be mean. She'd unpacked the ornaments, stockings and lights. This year her tree would soar to great heights.

Of elaborate gingerbread houses she thought -- but only homemade, not lesser, store bought. She'd hand make the wrapping paper, tie fancy bows, send cards of offspring in matching, clean clothes. And she wouldn't forget the true focus of the season: Jesus' birthday, the real Christmas reason.

'Twas two weeks before Christmas and mother was frantic. Her pesky to-do list was growing gigantic. Somehow her life interfered with her plans. To pull this all off, she'd need 70 hands.

She found a spare hour to fix up the tree. She'd slap on the lights and done it would be. When in the garage there arose such a clatter. She ran from the kitchen to see what was the matter. There were the lights and the twins, all entangled. She screamed and she moaned -- her nerves were all jangled.

'Twas a week before Christmas and her dreams fell apart. She bought a cheap gingerbread house at Kmart. She felt guilty for a moment and a little dejected. But then "At least I got a damn house," she reflected.

Then she gathered up presents and started to wrap. One kid held the tape and one sat on her lap. She didn't tie bows -- each present got a label. She polished the silver, then she set the table.

'Twas the day before Christmas and Mother was grumpy. Her rolls failed to rise and the gravy was lumpy. She got in her van and drove lickety-split to Publix and bought a huge box of Bisquick. When she came back, the twins were wrestling and fighting. The oldest was planning a late-night Santa sighting. They were up too late -- the kids were excited. Brimming with toy lust still unrequited.

Then it was Christmas. The kids came out of their lair. They sang "Happy Birthday" to Jesus and said a short prayer. Then they opened presents, ate breakfast, got dressed, and drove to the church, all looking their best. And Mom knew no one cared that the gravy'd been yucky. In fact, in reality all declared themselves lucky. The best part about Christmas -- their best Christmas ever -- was family and love and being together.

by Anne Glamore of Tales from My Tiny Kingdom

Posted by Sarah Jean :: 11:00 AM :: 0 Comments:

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