Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Finding Christ(mas)

For my entire
life I’ve been
an imperfect daughter
of a perfect person.

Hosting a Christmas
was somewhere north
of horrifying.

I knew I couldn’t
equal her big tree,
her age-old decorations,
her self.

She bought my favorite
toy solider ornament with her,
plus I was given two new ones as gifts.
My beloved solider a PWD, just like me.
In fact, when he became one
It was my child temper tantrum
that kept him out of the garbage.

I laugh thinking
now I call similar behaviors
towards homo sapiens solidarity.

But my first (of many) Christmases
was successful, true to both myself
and traditions.

This imperfect person
is most pleased.

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