The List Before Christmas

Evidence of my ancient publishing experience.

This week’s essay is a bit of a repeat. Not because I didn’t want to write a new essay this week—well, maybe a little of that—but because I remembered that this poem was one of, if not the, first times I was published. And since I’m the publisher of this little Silver Linings media empire (Essays! Podcasts! Video!) I thought it was appropriate to bring out this 42-year-old poem as a testament to my tenacity and an observation about Christmas. Because I’m being Christmas-y this year.

I mentioned this initiative in last week’s podcast—for some reason all the preparations that others have been knocking themselves out doing have inspired me rather than driven me under a blanket. And since I made this pledge to myself, that I was going to “do” Christmas, it’s felt pretty good—I even went to a neighborhood Christmas party. That might not be impressive to you, but I’ve never been the kind of person to go too crazy for the holiday and the last few years haven’t been my best showing. I skimped, I delayed, I ignored. So, when this tiny spark showed up in my heart looking very much like a glimmery strand of tinsel, I thought, “yeah…let’s do Christmas!” I would still maintain my personal, low-key, low stress version of the holiday, but the feeling of wanting to be a part of it was—accessible.

And, so far, so good. I still don’t have my decorations up, but that’s okay. Nor are the Christmas cards written. Also okay. Because I was intentional about doing this for me, I’ve given myself some latitude about production. If I need a nap, I take a nap.

I’ve also cried. A lot. I wasn’t deterred, though, and it seemed like it was reasonable that taking this path through the holiday would bring me to the places where the sadness was. How could it not? It’s like, you can’t protect yourself from the sadness, so you might as well just let it in. On your terms. And maybe it can keep you company as you begin to recreate a life that doesn’t include the one you loved so much. At least that’s what I’m telling myself as I set up a gift-wrapping station in the basement and bake tons of cookies.

So, here’s a funny poem! (Grief is weird, what can I say?) I hope you enjoy it, I hope you identify with it and I hope you’ll let me know what you think.

(I posted it as a podcast a couple of years ago, so if your eyes are stinging from all those twinkly lights, you can close them while I read the poem to you.)

The List Before Christmas

T’was the list before Christmas and all through the house
Not a chore had been finished, by me or by spouse
The list was all written on a legal pad with care
In the hopes that the tasks would be something we’d share.

The china was nestled all snug in its box
And I would unpack it had I the key to its locks
And me in my apron, a scarf and a mop
Had just started to clean, oh when can I stop?

Out in the backyard there was such a clutter
Forgotten lawn chairs, my husband’s old putter
I stared at the windows, their grime was apparent
I’ve often wondered: is dirt inherent?

The spoon on the crust of the mat in the sink
Gave a little sparkle and caused me to think
Wouldn’t it be nice if there were to appear
Tiny little elves atop tiny reindeer?
With buckets and sponges could clean up so fast
And in just a moment I’d be done with my task.

More rapid then eagles the guests they will come
I keep checking my list, would I be done?
Go shopping! Bake cookies! Make ready the bedrooms!
Mail Christmas cards! Roast turkeys! Polish the heirlooms!
From the top of the attic to the last bedroom wall
Sweep away, vacuum away, dust away all.

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
Went all the old cobwebs, (those I could spy)
And up to the housetop my husband went bumbling
To string cheery lights with more than enough grumbling

And then in a twinkling I heard him snort
“Turn off the fuse box! We have a short!”
We brought in the tree and turned it around
We’d not noticed before — bare spots abound.

We had the kids dress in their finest gear
To send photos to relatives — far and near.
A bundle of playthings they had on their list
I think we got it all — were there any we missed?

My eyes — how they drooped, my back — how weary
My hair was a mess — what a sight! How cheery!
All I wanted to do was soak in a hot tub.
Would Santa get me a needed back rub?

We checked off our chores, slowly but surely.
The end was in sight, could we be any more surly?
The line at the Post Office was like the Great Wall.
I got up to the front — what? No Christmas stamps at all?
The crowds at the mall were harder to bear,
The fastest thing going was breathable air.

But the list got checked off, the chores finally done.
The gifts were all wrapped, the stockings were hung.
The family arrived, early in fact.
But we smiled and we chatted as we helped them unpack.

And Christmas did come — as it does every year.
No list held it back — it flies in by reindeer.
And the only thought in my head as the Yule log burned bright,
Was Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!

I have my own little Christmas spirit, too.