Skip to main content

Christmas-Eve Day

“Twas Christmas-Eve day," and all through our house,
The kitties were stirring, in search of a mouse.

With Missy on guard, and Junior prowling ‘round. We were watching TV, not making a sound. 

The stockings were hung on the mantel with care,
In hopes that Junior would not go on a tear.

Filled with ornaments and lights, to brighten the season,
The house was all warmed . . . 'gainst the cold was the reason.

Mother was nestled all snug her chair,
While the TV was blaring with holiday fares.
Me in my sweater, with Junior in lap,
Had just settled in for an afternoon nap.

Sunlight caressed the freshly mown lawn,
Gave warmth to the day,
as dog-walkers trudged on.

Then the doorbell rang, there arose such a clatter,
Junior sprang from my lap to see what was the matter.

Away to the window, he flew like a flash,
Tore open my leg, while Missy chewed on the sash.

When what to my drowsy eyes should appear,
But gift-bearing neighbors, with sweet Christmas cheer.
Their mother was jolly, so lively and quick, I knew in an instant it wasn't St. Nick.

Up to the door, the young family came.
With a card and a package, she called us by name - "Where's Patrick, where's Lori we have a gift!" she exclaimed.

Their eyes how they twinkled, their dimples how merry!
Cheeks like roses, nose like a cherry!
They were dressed all in red from their head to their toes,
And the smiles they wore set their faces aglow.

A bright red platter in the little girls' hand, 
Was extended with joy, that was part of the plan.

Perched on the window and balanced with care, 
The kitties just watched but tried not to stare.
We accepted warm cookies, a right jolly old snack.
I looked like a peddler adding gifts to the stack.

I spoke not a word, but went straight to work.
Filling the stockings then turned with a jerk.
And warming my fingers by striking a match,
Strolled to the fireplace, to open the hatch.

As the neighbor’s departed we heard them say, “Happy Christmas to all,” . . . Have a Great Day!

Updated 12/24/2019

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

The Compass of Cuba: Mom

🎄  Preview of this week's  On the Fly  blog: A Holiday Tribute to Mom. As the holidays hustle with pixels and beeps, the world scrolls along in a smartphone-y sleep. I log off for a moment—just one little minute— To breathe in the past and to sit myself in it. My mind doesn’t wander to faraway places, Or trips full of tickets and new airport faces. Instead, it drifts backward, as memories do, to Cuba, Illinois, where the best moments grew. To a home full of warmth, in the wintry Midwest, Where my mother—dear “Marcie”—put love to the test. With a smile that could melt the most frigid of dawns, and hugs that hung on you like shivering fawns. She came from La Rochelle in France, brave and bright, Across oceans and war shadows, into new light. A town full of strangers soon felt like her own, And her courage built up the foundation of home. “Oh yes, we know Marcie!” the locals would say— “It's Doc Ball’s French lady! She brightens the day!” She cleaned, and she cooked, and sh...

Feeling Human Again

In this episode, The Unexpected Thankfulness of Feeling Human Again I’ll be honest with you: My triumphant return from France was not the glamorous homecoming I had imagined. No graceful glide back into routine. No cinematic jet-setter moment where I lift my suitcase off the carousel and wink at life like we’re old pals. Instead? I came home and immediately launched into a two-week performance piece titled The Great American Couch Collapse. My days blurred together in a haze of soup, hot tea, tissues, and desperate negotiations with the universe for just one nostril—one!—to function properly. The living room sofa became my emotional support furniture. And any creative idea that dared tiptoe into my congested brain was gently shown the exit with a firm but courteous, “Not today, friend. Try again later.” When life hits the pause button like that—when you’re exhausted, sick, and mentally unplugged—how do you find your spark again? Somehow, today, I felt it. A tiny shift. A clearing of th...

A Holiday Reflection–Mother's Love

In this episode,  How a Mother’s Love Built My Memories– A Holiday Reflection As this holiday season approaches and the world buzzes with shopping, planning, and busy schedules, I find myself embracing something wonderfully simple: taking a moment to pause. Not to check off a list or recharge devices, but to breathe deeply, remember fondly, and honor the person and place that have shaped my sense of home long before I had the words for it. This year, after regaining my strength from a lingering post-travel fog, my mind didn’t wander to exotic destinations or future adventures. It drifted backward—across oceans and time—to Cuba, Illinois, in the early 1960s, and to the woman whose love built the foundation of my world: Mauricette Elaine (Bontemps) Ball. My Mom . We came to Cuba after leaving La Rochelle, France, in 1959—a transition so dramatic I only appreciate its enormity now. My mother, barely in her mid-twenties, stepped off that plane and into the Midwest with a courage that s...

Believing Is Seeing

🎄 In this episode, Believing Is Seeing . . . It's December, we bustle, we wrap, and we dash. We sort life into boxes— myths  here,  to-dos  in a stash. We whisper of Santa (adult code: “Not Real”), but hold on one minute—let’s rethink this whole deal. For the stories we cherish, the movies we stream, hold more truth in their sparkle than we grown-ups may deem. So hop in this sleigh and hold on real tight— We’re chasing down Santa by the glow of his light! Scott Calvin once landed in the North Pole’s cold air, with elves, cocoa, and snow everywhere. He squinted and frowned—“This just  cannot  be so!” (Like thinking tangled lights will detangle if we  blow .) Then Judy the Elf gave a cocoa so steaming,  and said something simple . . . yet surprisingly gleaming: Seeing’s not believing—no, that’s not the key. "Believing is seeing!"   Just trust, and  you’ll  see!” Kids don’t need a map or a satellite screen to know Santa’s workshop is her...