'Twas the week before Christmas

                      Photo from Google Images

'Twas the week before Christmas
and all through my mind,
danced visions and memories
from a previous time.

The time in my life when dad was alive,
the things that were Christmas to him.
Boxes of chocolate covered cherries,
how dad would dive right into them.

Searching for slippers high and low,
not any old slippers would do.
Dad wore slippers like shoes,
so Christmas would bring him a pair brand new.

Old fashioned fudge was always a must,
and chocolate covered peanut butter balls.
Frosted sugar cookies and hot cocoa too,
and Christmas bliss decking the halls.

We hung Christmas cards on the back of our door
and would read them over and over.
From aunts and uncles and grandparents too,
with pictures of cousins growing quicker than clover.

Christmas Eve would find us all together,
dad and his three growing kin.
After Midnight Mass at church,
we would gather at home again.

Santa would come while we were away,
leaving gifts under the tree.
We'd have hot cocoa and warm sticky buns,
then open our presents with glee.

At the center of all of this cheer,
we never forgot Christ in the meaning.
Christmas comes with peace and hope,
and the best gift of love is a blessing.

Childhood Magic

 

                       Photo from google images

Magic to me was Mr. Bojangles,
with his big rig diesels he drove
and those twinkling bright blue eyes.

Bojangles they called him on the CB Radio
but to us he was know as our dad.
A man who loved burgers and fries.

I learned to climb like a monkey
up into and all around that truck.
I simply could not get enough.

A rough and tumble tom-boy,
who loved working with my dad.
I wasn't scared to be greasy and tough!

The trips were adventures
on the white lined highway.
Honking the horn here and there.

I'd flash lights at the passing trucks
with the toggle switch on the dash,
as they would pass us with care.

The people we would meet
in truck stops along the way,
just loved to entertain tots.

There once was a  nice man
who made music with spoons,
Oh, how I liked him, lots!

Sometimes we would stop and see,
people we loved, our family.
It was nice seeing people we knew.

I talked dad into that puppy
while at Aunties in Sacramento.
Then, in the truck, he pooped in dads shoe!

Then that time in Des Moines, Iowa,
a rare time we stayed in a motel.
It had a pool and I just knew I could swim.

I jumped in the deep end
and floundered a bit too long
and poor dad, fully dressed, jumped in.

I will never forget the magic,
the memories and the adventures,
of my childhood life with my dad.

And even though he's now passed on
he lives on in my heart and my soul,
as the best childhood magic I had.

 

~~~~~

Written for Think Tank Thursday - Nov. 4th

The real magic wand is the child’s own mind

~Jose Ortega y Gasset

To a child magic is amazing possibilities, to a romantic it’s what happens when you fall in love and to a scientist it is something to be scoffed at, magic is something to everyone. What is magic to you?

It could be a familiar smell that brings back a memory, maybe it is silence to a frazzled mother or it might be the wonders of technology, any way you look at it magic means something to everyone. This week use your pen as a magic wand and share with us the magic in your world.