Spying on Santa

Up on my tiptoes, I peerfrom behind the stairs tho I fear.What if I’m caught, is it worth the shotto see Santa delivering my toys?I look for the sign he’s been herebut the cookies and milk are still there.Under the Christmas tree, the skirt lays bare.No evidence yet he has come.A heavy sigh I let……

Christmas Morning Memories

VIGNETTTE December 1987I sat on the cream-colored sofa and slowly slid my 8-year old body to the edge. Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite played in the background as the crackling fire masked the sound of my internal excitement. It was an ice-covered, Oklahoma Christmas morning, and we had opened all the usual presents. The things we needed—socks……