Oh No, It's Over! . . . .

I have always loved Christmas. Growing up in Panaca, my Christmases were steeped in love and tradition. I remember my first Christmas as a wife. I worked so hard to replicate a Panaca Christmas. I decorated our little apartment and tree as near to what mother used to do as was possible with what we had. I went to the mailbox each day in anticipation of receiving my Christmas box from her filled with traditional goodies; suet pudding, fruit cake, pine nuts, and homemade candy. There was always something special she had made; a crocheted doily, embroidered dresser or table covering with a crocheted border, an afghan, or a set of kitchen towels.

I remember the first time my sailor husband had duty on Christmas day. It was incredibly sad for me. I was without family on Christmas day for the first time in my life. When we had children, I continued the traditions of my childhood. Several times when they were small, we were able to take them home for an old fashioned Panaca Christmas. I loved to decorate the "perfect tree" I had decorations for a blue tree with beautiful white spun glass lights and blue ornaments, a red tree with red ornaments and red poinsettia lights, a traditional tree with old fashioned ornaments and multi-colored lights, and always hundreds of icicles. I spent hours hunting for the perfect present for the special people in my life, both family and friends. Santa's gifts to my children had to be special. With all of this, we always remembered what the true meaning of Christmas was. We kept our Savior, Jesus Christ, in our lives and the lives of our children. The most important part of our Christmas celebration was our traditional trip to beautiful Balboa Park in San Diego to view the large Nativity scene that was always there.

So, when and why, when I loved it so much, did I begin to suffer from "after Christmas depression"? Perhaps, it was because I did love it so much and after all of the preparation, could not let it go. All I know, is that it would hit me Christmas night and it was unbearable. It became a joke with my husband and later with my children.

The day after Christmas in 1978, I forced myself to go to work at George's shop. I was supposed to be working, checking in a huge load of carpet and pad, but instead found myself struggling through my Christmas "let down" ( I hate the word depression) by writing the following poem:

TWAS THE NIGHT AFTER CHRISTMAS or IT'S ALL OVER BUT THE MESS

or IS THIS WHAT CHRISTMAS IS ALL ABOUT?

Twas the night after Christmas and all through the house,

was heard the unhappy mutterings of George's sweet spouse.

The stockings were scattered about with great flair,

twas obvious that St. Nicholas had recently been there.

The family was nestled all snug in their beds,

while visions of Christmas still danced through their heads;

And Craig with his dog and George with his book,

had just settled down after one last long look.

When down in the living room there arose such a clatter,

George sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.

Away down the hall he flew like a flash,

tore open the door, as he heard a loud crash;

As what to his wondering eyes should appear,

but a frightening sight of one he held dear.

He quick looked around, then jumped in the air,

as she aimed a swift kick at the big easy chair!

More rapid than eagles, her laments, they came.

She ranted and shouted and called them by name.

"I licked! I stamped! I cleaned and shopped!"

I baked! I wrapped! I scoured and mopped!"

"To the line at the post office! To the dirt on the wall!

Now dash away, dash away, to the El Cajon Mall!"

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,

when they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky.

So, up on the table top poor George flew,

dodging boxes and pillows and his Ina Mae, too!

And then in a twinkling, she came on the run,

he jumped and he ducked, but she still wasn't done;

As he drew in his head and was turning around,

down the top of the table, she came on the bound.

She was trimmed up with ribbons from her head to her toe,

and on top of her head perched a gleaming red bow!

A bag full of trash, she had flung on her back,

and she looked like a peddler just opening her pack.

Her eyes how they glittered! Her dimples weren't merry!

Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry!

Her droll little mouth was drawn up in a sneer,

and the look on her face struck his heart with cold fear!

The end of a candy cane she held in her teeth,

and tinsel encircled her head like a wreath.

She was waving her arms and kicking her feet,

and her body, it shook to some primitive beat!

She was stomping and kicking like a mean little elf,

and he laughed when he saw her, in spite of himself.

But, the glint in her eyes and the tilt of her head,

soon gave him to know he had plenty to dread.

So, he spoke not a word; but went straight to his wife,

gave her a hug as he said, "My dear, that's just life."

And laying his arm round her shoulders, he said,

"It'll look better tomorrow, Come, let's go to bed."

He gave her a kiss, to himself, loosed a sigh,

as her eyes filled with tears to begin a good cry.

"Having our children home made it a wonderful day,

remembering Jesus, watching Justin at play."

Then, you could hear her exclaim as he turned out the light,

"It was a Merry Christmas for all. I love you! Good Night!"

Now, 30 years later, Christmas 2008 is over. Thanks to Steve and Rhonda and the rest of our wonderful family, it was a beautiful day. I did have a few pangs last night, but I think I am finally getting a handle on my Christmas day "let down". After all, now I just go along for the ride enjoying all of the beauty of Christmas with little effort on my part. I just enjoy! And, thanks to Clement Clarke Moore who wrote the beloved poem, "Twas The Night Before Christmas" so many years ago. I have used it as the format for my poem.