*I know my way around the kitchen*
Registered: November 2012
Location: Ottawa Ontario
I wrote this poem a number of years ago (not sure what possessed me, I am not a writer at all). It is about the Christmas' of my childhood. I immediately thought of this poem when I say this challenge. But it is too long to fit nicely on a single page so I did a double layout.
The wind howls, and the snow flies as I rise
from my warm bed covers, my cocoon.
I run in bare feet to look out the window
at the bellowing snow covering my world
in a white blanket of peace.
Down the stairs, to see my Dad lighting the fire.
The smell of smoke and coffee, soothing and warm.
My brothers and sister are all up racing down the stairs
but I am first on this Christmas morn, as I always am.
My mom comes in with coffee for my dad and
hot chocolate for us.
We open our stockings, such glorious fun. It starts to
get light outside, and the sun rises spilling into the living room
and flooding the floor like a puddle of warm apple cider.
Waiting to open the presents is the hardest thing to do.
Pancakes and fresh orange juice, first. Oh the waiting,
is unbearable. My brothers are hopping up and down and
asking constantly when the presents can be opened,
like crickets in a warm evening grass.
Finally, it is time. We all gather round the tree, and
we take turns passing one present out at a time.
I want Mommy to open mine first. I feel like I
could burst with anticipation when I see the little
red box under the tree that I wrapped for her myself.
My heart could break open into a thousand different colours
if I have to wait any longer. Just when I think I can't stand it
anymore, it is in her hand... She is shaking it and I am
going to die if she doesn’t open it soon.
She opens it and cries out with delight to see the
treasure inside. She hugs me and I feel like exploding with
pride. Now it is my Dad's turn. He always guesses what
we have got for him. It is our favorite Christmas game.
But this year will be different, we have wrapped his in
no less then five boxes of different sizes. He will never guess.
I wait, my heart in my throat to see if we have done
the impossible this year. He shakes the box, and closes
his eyes. How did he know? In wonder I look at my
father, he must be magic. He always knows. The rest of
the presents are opened one by one, each child watching
with delight to see others open the special gifts they have
picked for each other. The pile goes on forever, but
eventually the fun comes to an end. Now we get to play,
in the snow, and with the new toys we have waited forever to get.
Helping with supper, turkey and potatoes, lots and lots of veggies.
The best pies ever, a whole mountain of them.
I am so full, and sleepy. I trudge up to bed with a feeling of
emptiness. I have waited and waited for this day and it
is all over with. But it was a good one, they are all
good ones. I curl up under my covers, my toes are cold like
frozen blocks of snow. Outside my window the wind howls
and soothes me to sleep.
Self Portrait by Pixelily and Memory Keeper by Connie Prince. The font is Footlight MT Light and I used Family Holiday's Alphabet by Janet B Designs