"A collection of my thoughts, feelings, and emotions, to the world around me"
Once upon a time,
there was an angry little elf.
Who thought of absolutely no one,
but of only himself.
He’s always so mad,
which made the other elves very sad,
with his complaints that work, work, work,
was all they ever had.
Screw the cab, it’s nice out, and I’m walking. Ah, the Christmas Eve Night walk home. This memory is further to the first snowfall entry I posted a few days ago in terms of the atmosphere it creates. A single awesome holiday mini-tradition that we tend to forget about. You don’t realize how Christmassy it is until you’re there in the moment. If you ask me, there’s no better backdrop to a beautiful Christmas than ending it with a brisk cool clean air walk home. Alone, or with a special loved one. Either way, it creates a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. You’re Christmas so far has been nothing but food, drinks, music, friends, and your loving family. Annnnd, the best part. Well, the best part was Santa still had to swing by the old house to drop off the gifts. Score. Oh, and turkey tomorrow…oh my God, Mmmmm, nan’s turkey!!!
Yes, I remember those nights when I close my eyes. How the stars always had the right amount of glow to them. Enough to guide you home. I loved how the streets had just fallen snow that sparkled in the light and covered the whole road. The only imperfection was a single set of tire tracks that belonged to that one taxi that was still making passenger runs. I can still see those super big snowflakes as they fall sideways against the shine of the streetlight as I pass the last stretch toward home. By that time all I could think of was how comfy my bed was going to be.
Those chilled-to-the-bone but warm-to-the-heart walks home are still very vivid in my memory. No matter if it’s twenty years ago or just last year, I love a good stroll on Christmas Eve Night. Because in the end, there’s snow place like home and I’m going to jingle all the way.
Until…
I haven’t been near a school in a gazillion years, and I have no idea but would hazard a guess that teachers no longer have to wheel things into the classroom to spring an afternoon movie on their students. I’m pretty sure classroom technology has far surpassed what I remember. But, when I do remember, I think about what that feeling was like when I returned to my seat after lunch and my homeroom teacher wheeled that bad boy into the room you see pictured above. There was always that classic wiggly-wobbly one-bad wheel that squeaked as it was rolled into place in front of the classroom. Here I was thinking the afternoon was going to be nothing but a long-winded boring clock-watching lecture, and now I’m in charge of pulling the thousand-pound navy blue curtains close. This afternoon was going to be awesome.
Ah, the afternoon school Christmas movie. There’s no better send-off to a holiday break if you ask me. It was certainly the case when I was a kid in awe that very day many Christmases ago. Now, with the curtains drawn and my important job complete, there were only another five minutes of our teacher shushing before the movie started. Threatening the movie would go off if the room did not fall silent until a pin-drop could be heard. Then, followed by a little elementary fart. A quick “I’m warning you!” Then, we were finally ready. All eyes trained on that teeny tiny audio-video TV, that had just enough light to spot everyone’s smile.
And…scene!!!
When I think of Christmases past, I remember the school concerts we had every year. After dark bus rides, dress pants too short, running around your classrooms at night, and those blinding stage lights. The moment you spotted your family you instantly wished you never. It was usually the moment my voice cracked.
Ah, the Christmas concert. It was the only time I ever wore tights and didn’t get arrested.
What’s your memory of Christmas concerts? Come on, let me know in the comments. Don’t give in to stage fright!
Hey all,
I wanted to drop in and let you all know that one of my most recent poems has been published on Spillwords. It’s live as of today. I submitted it a little while ago, they liked it, and informed me last week of their intention to share it for their own audience. It made my day and gave me something to smile about given the world’s current state. (A post about that is coming) Now, some of you have already read this poem here on my site, but I thought I would go ahead and share it once more to help take our minds off some of the craziness that’s going on.
As always, I hope you enjoy it. Please don’t forget to comment and tell me what you think. It’s all of you and your continued support that drives my writing and I’m lucky to have such a awesome following.
So, without further adieu, please click this link and move on over to Spillwords.com and enjoy Ash to Dust.
Stay safe, practise social distancing, and we’ll get through this troubled time together.
One word at a time, let us take back our lives.
Until…
When we lose focus on what makes us happy, we wind up fading into the background. The true meaning of life gets obscured. When it does, take a step back, look past all the blur, and the bigger picture will soon become much clearer. – Ash
Once upon a time,
there was an angry little elf.
Who thought of absolutely no one,
but of only himself.
He’s always so mad,
which made the other elves very sad,
with his complaints that work, work, work,
was all they ever had.
Even his friends,
would call him mean and selfish.
“Why are you not nice?”
“Why are you not elfish?”
No matter what they say,
he swore he’d never listen,
because ending the holidays,
had become his evil elf mission.
Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet. – Aristotle
I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery – air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, “This is what it is to be happy”. – Sylvia Plath
It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moments passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: he catches the changes of his mind on the hop.
– Vita Sackville-West
Earth To Ash 