51: On the Way to Sarah's House
Somehow you were scheduled to work that evening
But thankfully the shift was slow and you got off early.
You had a long drive up to Sarah's house out in the 'burbs,
And you wanted to get there well before she served dinner
So you could sneak the nephew's presents under the tree
It's a rare year that everyone makes it to Sarah's house,
With Paul out in California with his three little ones
And Jimmy stuck overnight at O'Hare four years running,
But fate brought everyone to your sister's house tonight,
And they're all waiting for you, the one who's usually early.
On the way to Sarah's house you stop at the convenience store
For a large regular coffee and some last minute stocking stuffers,
And at the front counter is the older woman, probably in her fifties,
Bored out of her skull but happy to see another human being there,
Stuck on the night shift because she doesn't have kids.
For a moment you wonder if she'd had plans to begin with,
Any siblings waiting at their house, any kids awaiting Auntie Ellie,
But she shrugs off the holiday like it was any other wintery day,
And smiles and wishes you happy holidays as she hands you the change.
Smiling back, you appreciate her acceptance of life, and wish her the same.
[NOTE: Thought I'd try some fiction poetry for the fun of it. --JC 18 Dec 2011]
This entry was originally posted at http://jonchaisson.dreamwidth.org/13109.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
But thankfully the shift was slow and you got off early.
You had a long drive up to Sarah's house out in the 'burbs,
And you wanted to get there well before she served dinner
So you could sneak the nephew's presents under the tree
It's a rare year that everyone makes it to Sarah's house,
With Paul out in California with his three little ones
And Jimmy stuck overnight at O'Hare four years running,
But fate brought everyone to your sister's house tonight,
And they're all waiting for you, the one who's usually early.
On the way to Sarah's house you stop at the convenience store
For a large regular coffee and some last minute stocking stuffers,
And at the front counter is the older woman, probably in her fifties,
Bored out of her skull but happy to see another human being there,
Stuck on the night shift because she doesn't have kids.
For a moment you wonder if she'd had plans to begin with,
Any siblings waiting at their house, any kids awaiting Auntie Ellie,
But she shrugs off the holiday like it was any other wintery day,
And smiles and wishes you happy holidays as she hands you the change.
Smiling back, you appreciate her acceptance of life, and wish her the same.
[NOTE: Thought I'd try some fiction poetry for the fun of it. --JC 18 Dec 2011]
This entry was originally posted at http://jonchaisson.dreamwidth.org/13109.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
