Holidays

Well, it's that time of year again. Thanksgiving's over and now Advent begins once more. From the top. Adagio con brio. What may turn up this year I wonder? Depends on the key, I suppose.

To help set the tone I return once more to my two favorite poems for the season; Mary's Song, by Lucy Shaw, and this one which seems especially poignant this year:


Christmas Fills the Empty Chair
by Connie J. Hessevick


Christmas reminds me of Grandma

winters of lefse, krumkake, fattimand...

My father’s memories

handed down through my imagination

bring me the Grandma I never met

to share Göd Jul



I sit at the table

in a house fresh with baking

you offer me coffee or lingonberry wine

homemade lefse unrolled from checkered towels

Butter?

Sugar?



Five boys fill your home

the eldest son tall, pink and hearty

labors at the wood pile

the steady sounds of axe to wood

our music for the evening



My young father on the quilt

turns the pages of a book

you are stern with him

he’ll not damage the pictures of the Old Land

slim heritage of a young bride bound for America

Norsk woman’s pride stares squarely at the Proctor son

a son who smiles his blue grey eyes

gingerly turns another page

and knows it is a holiday



Two round faced boys burst in from the cold

snow deep in every fold of their bundling

you help them inside out

seat them chattering by the stove

give hot milk and chocolate shavings

as they begin their "What if..." game

"Just what if snow came down as milk and chocolate?"



I share your thoughts on things the boys don’t hear

of the youngest son

in the Proctor earth now

of the empty chair

Just what if their father would knock on the door

Just what if he had not worked on the railroad

Just what if he had not tried to unionize

if he had not been black balled

would he be here now?

Or would he have gone for other reasons

as he had gone from Norway

we can share this story of men

who have reason to go

and not enough reason to return

We turn to warm milk and hard tack

and ease the slow burning in our bellies



The evening stills

And the thin son lights the candles on the tree

Makes shadows of his father around the room

All of the family

Gathered together

For a Christmas Eve



Just as you join me

fill my empty chair

bringing the family together again

I sprinkle the fattimand with powdered sugar

and offer you coffee

Milk?

Sugar?


Reprinted with permission from "Gentle Spirit" magazine.