#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

My first Christmas without living

parents Last year I drove alone

to touch my father on Christmas Eve

I brought Egg nog and a cut glass cup

to pour into and serve, nutmeg

for a sprinkling, The gang of us

planned a Christmas meal to serve

him the day after, and we did. But

I wanted quiet, him all to myself

to hold for all the Christmases

not to miss what I knew, our last

The first Christmas Day

my husband and I hosted

in place of my parents, after

prime rib and presents, in opposite

chairs they sat and sunk

into silent, a huge sleep

we stood in the chaos

torn, paper crushed and boxes, ribbon -

all the unraveling is ours now

to order

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