When I think of Christmas past I think of my family: we did not always get along, but we did at Christmas. Christmas Eve was magical,
the anticipation, the aromas, the wide eyes and expectation. My father was Santa Claus, the man never made a big deal about himself,
neither did his chief elf, my mother, but they always made Christmas
so special for the rest of us. Christmas began with piles and stacks o
presents and ended with piles of wrapping paper that hit the ceiling.
When I think of Christmas Present I think of empty chairs—all of
those in my family who are gone now, I think of the table that we
shared and the loud rambunctious voices that rang out on Christmas
Eve and into the morning and my heart aches to see them again. Ever
ornament on the tree, every carol I sing, every bite of a cookie or pr
line brings their face before me and when the smell of turkey fills th
air I celebrate the world’s greatest turkey roaster, feeling like she
has filled the house once again.
When I think of Christmas Future I think of hopes, dreams, good wil
peace, all wrapped up in a ribbon that flows from the hands of the pa
and into the hearts of the future letting me know beyond the shadow
of a doubt that the same happy ho ho feeling that made Christmas
past such a happy place, will go on, and on, and on.
Merry Christmas! Kathleen Mary