Hope you all had a good journey through the Christmas Season. I enjoy that in my tradition we are still celebrating it until Epiphany when the Wise Men make their visit. This poem came from some not too deep but still profound reflections on this Christmas time with family.
It’s too Quiet
The chaos and mess
blessed our grand souls.
Toys and tots underfoot,
the running and jumping of feet,
voices resonating off our high ceilings.
Then Christmas morn holding off the
two would be marauders
until Uncle Mattie and Aunt Aakansha arrived.
Then paper and bangs and beeps every where
with “Joy to the World” blaring in the background.
Afterwords with boys finally down for naps
adults collapsed on every surface
comatose for two hours.
Then the smells of our eclectic meal
of roast chicken and tofu stir fry,
Indian curried vegetables and baked sweet potatoes .
And the days after Christmas
marched too rapidly towards their departure
and then arrived.
As we walked back into the house
after the hurricane of their departure
we said, “It’s too quiet.”
And our hearts missed them and our daughter already.
I wondered if I would ever forget the theme songs
of Thomas or Paw Patrol,
Dora or Word Girl
or Rescue Bots.
I miss those voices calling for:
Cheese and candy
Apples and candy
Juice and candy.
The chorus of “mine” and “he did.”
Those incessant shouts of
“Grandma” or Grandpa.”
Those fresh from the bath bodies
squirming under towels.
Those cheeks waiting for
a goodnight kiss.
Diantha Zschoche 1/14