Your Christmas Poem

Here it is early Christmas morning. I should be in bed, but my baby sister, Leah, asked for a poem. I told her it would end up being terribly sad, and she said “sounds perfect.” My three siblings, no matter how old we get, still feel an incredible urge to be together for Christmas.

The last Christmas memory I have of us, as a nuclear family, is from when I was 12. It isn’t a positive memory, in all honesty. I remember my parents fighting in the only bathroom our house had, but it was one of the farthest rooms from the Christmas tree, so that’s where they went in an effort to shelter us from their crumbling marriage.

My parents needed to be away from the tree, because that’s where the four of us were sleeping. We were in a row with all four heads as far under the tree as possible.

We always decorated a real tree. Dad would load us all up into the pickup and we’d drive out to a small town called Ong. I’m not sure we were allowed to call Ong a town, it was more like a village, but a Christmas tree farm was located close by and we went every year.

This particular year, we walked a while before finding the perfect tree. I had my heart set on the best looking tree. Dad tried to warn me that it was too big for our living room, but I wouldn’t listen. I dug my heals in and insisted we cut the tree down and take it home.

Dad cut the tree down happily. We all helped carry it back to the pickup. Dad was great about choosing his battles with his children. Not much ever stirred him up, if I remember correctly. Calm, cool and relaxed is the best way to describe him. Mom could be described the same way now. Back then I think she looked at his coolness as more of a detriment to the greater good, if ya know what I mean.

My dad once crushed a man’s fist with his bare hand. The reason had something to do with witnessing this man strike his wife with the force of ten men. I suppose we all have limits, but I digress.

Y’all, the tree was enormous. We couldn’t place it in front of the picture window of our house, because of the size. We had to place it into a corner and hope for the best. The tree must have taken up the majority of two walls, but no one cared. We laughed over that tree for hours, maybe even days.

Anyway, this is what runs through my mind while trying to find the right words for a poem.

I thought I’d share a few silly giggles we had while chatting tonight…

Baby and her crew are in Colorado for Christmas. As they were reaching their destination she snaped this picture:


She says we made it…only three individual lights glowing out here in the middle of nowhere and we all have the same last name. Colorado farm country can be a lonely place.

Middle was also traveling for Christmas tonight. Somewhere near the Oklahoma panhandle is her destination. Middle came out of the womb a city girl, but married a country boy, so we often giggle over her adventures. She sent me this update:


“Aud, the last truck ahead of us just turned. We’re officially alone out here and it’s spooky.” (Gorgeous picture, Bean!)

Lastly, Big Brother’s holding his own fort down and doing his part for Santa. Not sure cookies go with his drink of choice, but he’s the oldest and I’m not gonna argue with him, plus someone at his house just got a set of drums…


So yeah, that was our Christmas Eve giggle session. Oh, I did share this photo with them, but know that you may not hold me accountable for finishing it.


Here’s your poem, my loves.


Christmas without you,
Never seems the same,
The food tastes worse,
And usually, ’tis game.
Hunting is frequent,
Among midwestern plains,
So the complaining must quit,
There’s only you to blame.
Of course we’d rather be together,
Sitting inside Big Brother’s barn,
We all know what happened last year,
Not one of us tried looking for a star.
We were all far too busy singing songs,
About whiskey and honky tonk bars,
To remember how often we’re apart,
A new Christmas memory is now ours.

Okay, it’s 2:40 AM….I’m spell checking and that’s all. My siblings got their Christmas wish. Anything that doesn’t make sense we’ll blame on Eggnog. Merry Christmas!!


52 thoughts on “Your Christmas Poem

  1. I have three younger sisters so I thoroughly enjoyed this. Especially your poem, even though it was/is unique to your family/situation, it resonated here too. And blaming anything on the eggnog is brilliant. Consider that line/excuse stolen. πŸ™‚


    • Eric, thank you so much. I am very happy to have you here. I recently followed your blog and look forward to dipping in and having a read. I loved seeing Dalo’s post on your site, which is how I came across your blog. Thankful to have happened upon it. πŸ™‚

      Such a lovely comment. I adore how easily you identify with our family arrangement. My only brother, who is the oldest, would be thrilled to know that there is another who shares his travels along side a group of sisters. Three sisters can be a rough gig. Thank you…you’ve made my day with your praise and you’re welcome to pinch that thought. πŸ™‚ Enjoy your Sunday.



    • The rough gig part has only presented later in life. Early on, I rode said gig and youthful introductions till the cows came home. And sometimes I didn’t come home… which is when I’d don a flak jacket. Sisters can make matters dicey. πŸ™‚


  2. Little sisters always get what they want, don’t they?!? That is such a great story about the tree ~ that is where Christmas always really started with me. Since I am never around when the tree now goes up, I am always sent an email with a photo where they exclaim its the best tree ever, to which my reply always is “Merry Christmas Charlie Brown…” ~ no matter how a tree looks, it is always those around it that means the most. Very much enjoyed this opening up of your world with this story. Beautifully written ~ Cheers!


  3. My dear Friend. I hope you had a very good Christmas and you will have a safe and fun New Year. Thank you for your friendship. You are a example to me. You worked hard and earned your success.


  4. Drums! Nice. But goodness, those things are so loud. Sometimes–only sometimes–I want to shoot the drummer. You know, Nick plays.

    The puzzle looks great! I put one together once…took me about 50 years, too.


  5. Quite the late poem, and I hope you shared some of your eggnog with Santa :). Thanks for sharing your Christmas memory with the enormous tree from Ong (a great name!) — this was a funny story that I’m sure your family still enjoys re-telling. Those traditions of laughing over stories like this are wonderful indeed.


  6. I remember when my son took up drums. There wasn’t a moment’s peace for me (or any of our neighbors), especially when the windows were open! Glad to see you completed the border of that puzzle first — that way, it kind of accuses you every time you walk past it, until it’s finished!


  7. You know you put together a lot of pieces to the best puzzle of this night of yours, Aud, your life with sibs. Thanks for sharing the memories.

    That one in the picture on the floor, though … good luck with that, Red!

    Merry Christmas, dear friend. ❀


  8. Wonderful post for me to read with my first cup of coffee on Christmas morning Audrey… Thank you for staying up late to write it. Hope your day is most beautiful… Christmas hugs…


  9. Well, Merry Christmas to you…. Super poem. Today, Christmas, would have been my dad’s 89th birthday
    Yesterday, we had dense fog – 10 metre visibility. Yet, people choose to drive like the tornado. There was a 48 car pile up on the highway. Not a great Christmas Eve for those souls


    • Thank you, Rajiv.

      How was yesterday? I hope you surrounded yourself with good memories of your father, Rajiv. I am honored, truly, by your trust in me. Sharing such a painful story isn’t easy. The horror of losing your dad in such a senseless moment…I’ve been the victim of irresponsible driving and have no tolerance for it. Thankfully, I’ve not been hurt. I wish for my hugs to fall upon your shoulders, my friend. xxx


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