It’s Coming On Christmas

It’s coming on Christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They’re putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh, I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

River by Joni Mitchell

Joni Mitchell,

sure can write,

an evocative lyric,

and a haunting tune.

Sigh, it’s Christmas, soon.

There are many things,

I love about Christmas,

but, it also makes me,

sad.

It makes me reflective,

even more than usual.

I miss all the people who,

have gone before me.

I try to keep their memory,

alive.

I have pictures out,

I use the things I have,

inherited,

the decorations,

the dishes.

I watch the Christmas TV,

The Grinch, Charlie Brown,

It’s A Wonderful Life,

A Christmas Carol,

all the old classics,

they often bring up,

a good cry.

Because Christmas,

is so much about the past,

childhood, memories,

it isn’t all rosy,

because life isn’t,

all rosy,

so why would Christmas be?

At this time of year,

we all seem to want to be,

hit with a case,

of,

collective nostalgia,

an amnesia of how things,

were or should be.

Sugar Plumbs and Carol singing.

I remember the good things,

the wonderful food,

my Grand-maman wearing,

her best clothes,

with an apron around her waist,

the loud laughter,

but, also the arguing,

my mom smiling but,

stressed,

my dad,

well,

you never knew,

if this was the year,

he started a war or,

was it a year of peace.

There are great years,

of love and family,

and friendship and presents,

and new sweaters,

raising a glass in good cheer.

When you reach your advanced,

fifties like me,

and you have no direct descendants,

you wonder,

who will remember you,

who will recognise the people,

in the photo albums?

Maybe you don’t wonder these,

thoughts but, I do,

and then I listen to Joni Mitchell,

or Barbra Streisand,

singing lovely melodies,

and sad, heartfelt lyrics,

and I remember how truly blessed,

I am.

I have been and continue to be,

loved and cherished.

So, it’s coming on Christmas,

tell those you love,

that you love them,

if they are gone,

look to the sky,

or talk to their photo,

tell them you love them,

tell them you miss them.

Listen to Joni.

Have a great one,

you all.

Later girls,

BB

Author: Bookish Butch

I am a bookish butch in my mid early fifties. I live in Montréal and always have. I used to run a small used bookstore. Reading keeps me sane. My latest jiggie is photography, book project in the works, living the dream

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