Christmas of Yesteryear
a poem to welcome winter
It’s warm tonight- in a West Virginia lodge.
The one that holds so many memories of
my childhood: staying overnight, eating
cinnamon crackers and peppermint.
The breakfasts were always the best:
omelets made to order and waffles
made by a cook, not a bland iron.
I’ve burned more than my fair share.
We drive through the light displays
once the night falls and joy arrives:
a winking owl, Peanuts comic strips,
and a portrait of Cinderella’s castle
are among my favorites. Feeling
childhood joy and the countdown
to the most magical day of the year.
Whispering to the Santa at the zoo
the name of the boy I love. A request.
A small flashback to the time that I loved Christmas. My favorite days as a child were spent at a place called Wilson Lodge in Oglebay, West Virginia.
I’m too cynical now as a thirty-something and Christmas is just another day. While I’ve never stopped believing in magic, I’ve stopped loving the holiday. Stress over choosing the right gift at the right price has overcome the childish anticipation. It’s hard for me to recall when this happened.
However, I do enjoy flashbacks to who I was in yesteryear.