The Great Julie Andrews

  • The service having id "propeller" is missing, reactivate its module or save again the list of services.
  • The service having id "buzz" is missing, reactivate its module or save again the list of services.
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
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
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!

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:



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.