Rocking with my Grandsons and daughter on a blessed spring morning. ❤️
I find myself (as I do every Christmas) thinking back to a
special lady who always made Christmas so loving. There was
one gift I always remember and treasure is the one from Grandma.
She was old and retired. She was living on a very limited
income. Each Christmas she would set up a tree no taller than
Two feet. It was artificial and set on a little table covered with cotton
from old boxes, replicating snow.
She would take the little money she had and buy each of her
grandchildren hose for the girls and socks for the boys.
Today I remember her going to the little tree. Her hands had
become old with swollen joints and trembled just a little as
she picked up the little gift wrapped in thin paper from the year
before. There was always a thin ribbon, usually red tied so carefully.
Handing me the little gift, she would say, “It’s not much.” I
would always smile to her and say, “Grandma, you have no idea
how much I needed hose.” She would smile and sit next to the
Today that gift keeps giving back to me. It was love.
copyrighted: 2012 CMM
That four poster bed and me at the foot…
was the beginnings of beginnings
and the irony it took.
My Mother’s plight to come back home,
when our Father’s fights,
and opening their doors,
no one needed to sleep on the floor.
The nights we laid, kittens in bed,
me at the foot,
as they snuggled at the head.
Quilts laid busy acoss us just right,
four poster jammed,
with three quite a sight.
As we grew older and given each a bed,
I will never forget the four poster bed,
me at the foot and they at the head.
I wonder in life when all things askew
and the trials I endured
whether old or renewed.
If being at the foot of this bed
gave me the will to survive,
in keeping my head.
© CMM 2002