Dawning Creations

In the distance,

white fluff is powdering the cold crisp grass.

The trees are bare and vulnerable to the icy caress

of winter’s fingertips.

The winter always held magic to me.

The way the surroundings appear,

so cold and beautiful.

Memories dance in each snowflake.

The memories contain promise, anticipation, and love.

I remember spinning as the flakes fell one winter,

spinning until I would topple over into a snow heap.

My cousins and I would jump on the snow

enveloped trampoline, playing until we were numb.

The cold couldn’t stop us; it made us want it more.

The lights inside of my grandmother’s house would shimmer brightly.

Sparkling brilliant colors of blue, green, red, and purple,

we’d swing on her front porch swing,

as if we were going to the motions of the moving colors.

The outside may have been chilled, but inside my grandmother’s house,

the air was warm.

Presents were stacked high from all of our family members

that would visit from all different states, just for that one

precious holiday.

The scent of holiday treats would fill the house,

apple pies, nut rolls, pumpkin pie, and many varieties of cookies.

At the end of the night, after we’d gather around grandma’s

kitchen table, we’d sit in a circle.

My uncle would play songs on his acoustic guitar.

We’d sing as best as we could, songs like grandma

got ran over by a reindeer, Rudolph the red nosed reindeer,

silent night, and countless others.

The hours would fade, until no one realized the time.

The presents would be opened and wrapping paper

became the new carpet.

The younger ones would pass out, thumb in their mouth, laying in the mound.

Now, I close my eyes and try remember every year.

Try as I may to grasp every event, some of them grow fuzzy.

The ones I remember most, however, are the ones when I was very young.

As I pass by these brightly lit houses,

I am filled with instant anticipation.

Even though many people are gone,

and things may be very different than they used to be,

that feeling never leaves me.

I refuse to let it go.

So, still I celebrate, even if by myself,

the coming of winter and her promise of white splendor.

I take her hand and let her guide me back to warm memories

that keep the chill in the air from reaching my soul.

I refuse to let winter’s promise go…