Christmas by Jessie Morrison

Snow drifts down slowly, covering the frozen earth like with a soft, sparkling blanket. Papaw’s German shepherd wiggles on his back in an effort to burrow beneath the crystal white blanket. Bright red and white lights blink merrily from the eaves of the house, welcoming everyone up the tree-shrouded driveway. Peace settles upon the landscape. It is the one time of the year when laughter, smells of down-home cooking, and my family gather at my grandparents’ house: it’s Christmas.

            I step into the living room and the kitchen and laughter assaults my ears. It is an unmistakable sound of pure joy. Although she scolds him and chases him from her kitchen, Mamaw laughs as my papaw manages to snatch a bite of ham before dinner. She makes a funny sight, waving her wooden serving spoon in the air. Gut-busting jokes and hilarious short stories are swapped back and forth endlessly. Laughter fills the three-bedroom house with keeping the chill air at bay outside.

            The second best thing about Christmas is the wonderful aromas of a home-made feast. Wafting through the irrepressible din of laughter, smells of ham and sweet potatoes float in the air. All of the delicious aromas originate from the heart of the household: my mamaw’s kitchen. Everyone has a favorite dish. My dad loves sweet potatoes; my brother and little cousin have soft spot for sweet desserts. My papaw is not picky as long as there is plenty of it. Everyone eats with a hurried anticipation because presents come next.

            Last but not least, the best thing about Christmas is that my family gathers in one place. We have a break from school and the adults finally have a day off work. When we migrate to the living room for gifts, there are not enough seats for everyone. My papaw dives beneath the rotating tree every year to pass out shiny gifts. A huge pile accumulates in front of each individual. The one present that matters most is that we are all together to witness one another’s smiles.

            In conclusion, Christmas is the one day of the year when the world seems perfect. Problems fade away with the wind. Laughter erases all worries foremost in our minds. A home-made feast brings the family together at the same table. How could Christmas possibly be any better?

Country Roads

 

 

There ain’t nothing like country roads

Neighbors sittin’ on their porches waitin’ for a friend to top in and sit a while.

Have a cup of thick black coffee.

Don’t go puttin’ no Wilson’s cream or Domino sugar in it. Dulls the taste.

There ain’t nothing like country roads

Little white churches sittin’ under tall oaks with gnarled arms swingin’ in the breeze. Praisin’ God.

Steeples reachin’ high into Heaven. Longin’ for a peak of the Promised Land for anyone else gets a chance.

There ain’t nothing like country roads

They take you home to Mom and Dad and Family and all the holler gossip that’s been heapin’ up since the dirt road helped you escape then allowed you to make a legal U-Turn to take you back to your roots.

There ain’t nothing like country roads

Wild flowers and blossoms brighten the ride causin’ a calm and peaceful feeling to wash over the viewers and remember days from long ago when small fists clutched bouquets to decorate Momma’s window sill.

There ain’t nothing like country roads

Young lovers walk hand-in-hand

Noddin’ a friendly howdy to passers-by.

Cool breezes lift clean white sheets hangin’ on clothesline and keep ‘em flappin’ while an ole coon dog barks at a moon remembered from past nights.

her essence: a tribute to anne frank

 

 

 

her essence remains

on walls

with pictures

and posters

of movie stars

hung carefully

by innocent fingers.

 

a slender body

with limp shirt tail draped

about long, slender legs

back against wall

for mother’s pencil

to apply

growth marks.

 

her essence

hid in an upstairs room

behind heavy war curtains

until a lone survivor

finds a journal

which recorded

coming of age

and

facing death

while yet alive.

 

her essence remains

on the wall

behind a bookcase

in the hallowed

hall of time.

 

her essence seared my mind

moved me

stole my voice

stung my eyes

left me limp

yet

her essence remains.