An After Christmas Poem

Yesterday morning I woke up at 4:30 and couldn't go back to sleep.  The highly anticipated day had come and gone.  As I walked through the still dark house, I was aware of the difference a day makes.

The house was pretty much the same--decorations, tree, lights were all still there.  But it was obvious that it was over.  The empty boxes were stacked together waiting to be flattened and recycled, the ribbons and wrappings were gathered and thrown into trash bags waiting to be taken out, the gifts dispersed to their new owners and taken to their rooms or neatly stacked waiting to be packed in suitcases all too soon closed for trips home.  Yes, it was done.  Another Christmas, another family get together, another set of memories.   Wow!

I studied the remains of the day, examined the tree, looked at all the decorations that would soon be packed away for another year, thought about the night before, the excitement, the fun, the laughter still hanging in the air.  It felt good; it felt sad; it was a cluster of memories wanting to find a permanent place in my head, begging not to be forgotten. 

So to process it all, I sat down to write.  Then the words to the season's favorite children's poem, "The Night Before Christmas," started repeating itself in my mind.  Now I know this classic poem written almost two hundred years ago has been used and misused through the years, and I have found myself doing the same many times.  It's just such a good poem.  But this old favorite poem became the format for my thoughts on the day after Christmas, 2013.


'Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the house,
Not a creature was there, not even a mouse.
The stockings were emptied and scattered without care;
It was obvious that St. Nick had been certainly been there.

The Christmas tree once festive now looks lonely and bare
With no presents spilling out from under there.
No little boy reaching in for a bright colored bow
And tossing the name tag over his shoulder with a quick throw.

Examining the trimmings, unusual things I now see
That were added discreetly to the decorated tree.
An empty wooden spool so gingerly placed
About a hand higher than a little boy's face.

A cowboy boot once part of a wreath
Now taps its toe on a tree branch underneath.
The feathers and leaves that evened the tree out
Found bundled together--by small fingers no doubt.

A frilly reindeer once participating in imaginative play
Lies forgotten in favor of toys from Christmas Day.
The wooden train engine originally bright and red
Now in three pieces--no more needs to be said.

Santa, glittery and spry, who sat in his sleigh
Has been found near a bed three rooms away.
Even the nestled metal trees on tables nearby
Were expertly relocated in the blink of an eye.

It appears the Dickens' village with its warm lights all aglow
Now has fewer villagers milling in the white snow.
Accidents happen and memories do too.
These are a few that I will treasure the whole year through.

Then knowing soon I'd be taking decorations down
I felt blessed and happy that these memories abound.
I wished to myself as I flipped off the light
That there were Happy Christmas memories for all, and for all good nights.