The Great Julie Andrews

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The Great Julie Andrews

In the beginning,
I fight a little sad
at Christmas.
This year has been mostly good
but there is one point
on which there is an overwhelming
sinking feeling.

But, I got to get happy!
yadda, yadda, yadda
mid December rolls around,
if I haven’t done it already,
I will be scrambling
my gossamer-silver
glittery-white trimmed
trees up!
because I love Christmas.

It’s the right thing to do
right?
even as I fight the sad.
I am a child of God,

Made in his image
Maid for his image

God gave me Christ.
I gave God nothing
Christ is Christmas.
Christmas is nothing
I love Christmas.

That is that.
The lights go up.
The tree goes up.
The cute
fuzzy
fluffy
gauzy
shiny
stuff
goes up.

Oh it all goes up.
(Martha would be proud.)

I buy outfits for my dogs that
they tolerate?
Their eyes roll
I try to snap photos

Damnit! I buy food for you!
Damnit! I put a roof over your head!
The least you can do is sit still for me!
Damnit!

I stuff stockings
cartoon sized bones
they spend days puzzling over
Ultimately they end up
In the trash
I sit and look outside as the wind rips the final leaves
from real trees

I see my cozy home.
I say a prayer for those who are suffering
I give thanks for the warm fire I sit by
and for my family- chosen.
I even pray for the one
I was born to.

It all makes me happy
The twinkle lights make my heart melt.
Wrapping presents is bitter sweet.
Christmas music sends me back
first time I heard

Elvis Presley
Bing Crosby
Julie Andrews
Barbara Streisand,
… she’s Jewish.

Julie Andrews
Julie Andrews

I used to get out the albums early
showed my mom
(the one that I prayed for)
which one I wanted to play first.
It was always Julie Andrews.
Over time she finally let me put the records on,
She let me pick
Stating, and I quote:

“IlikethemallsowhicheveroneYouchoosewillbeperfect!”

perfect?

Wow.
I’ve never been perfect
Especially at Christmas
I learned how to set the needle down gently
I sometimes hear morphed versions of
my Past Christmas Treasures
I know all the words.

On the coffee and tea isle
I slightly sway back and forth
as if still in the arms of my mother.
My knuckles swollen,
pale against the red grocery cart handle.