A CHRISTMAS STORY

 A Christmas Story

I’m in the kitchen, 

washing and drying the dinner dishes,

one of many daily rituals.

It’s December, 2020, 

there’s snow on the ground.

The rowdy kids that play in the park,

the park that’s located at the rear of our home, 

have gone to their homes, 

and it’s now quiet. 

No screaming, nor foul language.  I pause for a moment, and 

think back. 

Were we like that when we were teenagers? 

I’m certain,

quite certain,

that we were better behaved. But then, who’s to say, as 

so much,

so very much time has passed, and 

my memory, 

sad to say, 

has a way of forgiving, 

and forgetting.

Christmas is only weeks away and I wonder, 

will the snow stay around long enough to give us a White Christmas?

“I’ll Be Home For Christmas”, Michael Bublé’s version comes on radio.

The lyrics are catchy, I join in and softly sing along…

“I’ll be home for Christmas

You can plan on me

Please have snow and mistletoe

And presents by the tree….”

“Dad will be home soon”, I say out loud to myself, 

but there’s no one else in the kitchen to hear. 

Sandra, with dinner eaten, 

has gone to watch the evening news. 

From time to time the noise, 

that some call the news,

drifts out of the TV room, 

drowning out the music on the radio. 

I’m reluctant to watch the news. It’s all about the pandemic, 

and people dying. It’s all bad news, and

I’m not in the mood for bad news. Of course, 

it has to be bad news, otherwise 

it wouldn’t be news. 

I pause, and 

while looking out of the kitchen window into the darkness remember, that

Dad isn’t coming home. He died many years ago, but, 

many years ago, not long after the Lakes froze over, 

he would  come home…..

Dad was a Great Lakes sailor, 

his ship was his home. 

Our home was mom’s home, 

the place that dad kept, 

to house all that was best. 

He’d visit mom’s home, 

and stay for a bit, 

while the lakes were all frozen, 

and his ship was tied up. 

When winter’s edge softened, 

and the ice went away,
he’d go back to his ship,
to stay. 

His life,
filled with misery, 

alone on the seas,
he’d write letters to mom, 

my sister, and me. 

The years they would pass, 

the letters grew fewer. 

We became like strangers, 

my father and me.

I wish that they hadn’t,

but what was his choice? 

The life of a sailor was all that he had. 

We had no car. 

A taxi would come, and 

take Dad away in the spring, and 

months later,

just before Christmas,

would bring him back home, 

to stay for a bit.

He’d be wearing the same clothes he was wearing when he left, and 

carrying the same luggage, 

a dunnage bag filled with work clothes, 

now in need of a wash, and 

boxes filled with goods from his ship, 

now lifeless and cold. 

It was a time of great joy, 

filled with hugs and kisses,

soon to be shared,

with family and friends, 

not seen, 

for almost a year. 

Christmas would come, 

a time of good cheer, and 

then things would settle down. 

He’d try, 

to fit in, but 

our home,

wasn’t his home. So, 

come March, 

when the winds blew softer,

he’d gather his things, and 

let his mind wander.

Come spring the taxi would come, and 

with hugs and kisses, 

he’d say his goodbyes.

His visits,

though short

weren’t entirely sad. 

There were moments, 

a few, 

when we all got together,

had fun with family and friends,

played cards, read comics, and 

listen to music, 

amusing to some, 

confusing to those who were young.

I still remember my aunts and uncles laughing and,  singing along 

 to Uncle Georgie’s 78 rpm recording of “I’ve Got A Lovely Bunch Of Coconuts.”

They’re all gone now, but I can still see, as well as hear them singing, 

and most of all, 

enjoying, 

a rare moment of joy, 

in their wearisome lives.

Christmas, 

so many years ago, 

filled with simple pleasures, 

family and friends, 

Santa Clause, 

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer,

Alvin And The Chipmunks -

stockings hung and filled with treats and toys, 

Christmas mornings with presents under the tree, 

Raggity Anne, and windup trains, 

and Dad,

..............home at last.