A Christmas Memory

Christmas Tree Memory

From days gone by I remember as if it were real,

Me and my family living on the hill.

It was a time of excitement, expectation for all,

Seasons changed to hash winter with a goodbye kiss from fall.

It was a family tradition I was to learn,

One that wasn’t given but one that was earned.

T’was my dad’s practice, this journey we took,

From our house on the hill as my mom stayed to cook.

No nickels or dimes or dollars to be found,

So, we followed my dad into the forest without a sound.

Up the steep hillsides with kids, he scrambled,

Each concerned about the destination, it was one of life’s gambles.

Once standing atop high mountains crowned with snow,

We’d found what we came for, our faces aglow.

T’was a tree for the season soon to be decorated we were told,

As we watched and imagined its ornaments of both silver and gold.

It was our tradition, miner’s children, one that still lingers,

Perhaps not the hunting in wintry forests with frozen fingers.

But within my heart and with my mind’s eye,

I see all of us together, never to say goodbye.

So let the world say what it will,

About poor folks, miners, living in the hills.

It is from these pure hearts and spirits I came,

Into this world, so it would never be the same.

My life’s almost over, as many have said,

No matter the people I’ve encountered or places I’ve laid my head.

It’s the mountains within me, Christmas tree memories I’m told,

That’ll keep me young forever, never to grow old.

By: Dan R. Fowler

For: Astrid