Three pairs of children’s shoes all lined up in a row.
Small gifts inside indicate the arrival of the Christmas season,
repeating a tradition cherished since my childhood.
I could hardly wait to set out my shoes each year.
Sinterklass leaving toys in tiny shoes, the smell of a live tree,
bubble lights glowing in the branches, lighting the room
in hues of blue, green, orange and red,
Christmas ornaments – one for each year –
adorning each limb with memories.
If I close my eyes, I am transported back to my childhood,
awed by the site of our tree, surrounded by cleverly packaged presents,
my mother’s collection of nativities,
and the blinking of outdoor lights covering every available tree.
I can name maybe a handful of gifts I received as a child –
The beautiful red-haired doll, Holly, I dreamed of all year.
The record player mom purchased with points from cereal boxes.
Eeach year’s Christmas Eve PJs lovingly sewn by my mom.
But I swear I can hear my sisters’ laughter,
feel us dancing merrily to Jingle Bell Rock,
see my father set the blinking lights in motion,
and taste cherry cordials on my tongue.
And I ache a bit at those memories,
knowing I’ll never see my father light the tree again
or wake up at 6 am beside my sisters on Christmas morning
or hear my mom call, “You can come out now!”
But those three pairs of shoes lined up in the present
bring those memories to life each year
and I hold them in my heart as old merges with new
and my children create Christmas memories of their own.
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