Christmas comes but once a year,
used to be snow, but now, my dear,
we've got sunshine and green grass,
and driving elsewhere a little too fast.
I used to curl up with some hot cocoa,
and belligerently ignore all the snow,
but now I've got ten hours in a car,
with my hubby and a cat truly alarmed.
Where it's on to my big sister's house,
(we're the normal ones & of that, I'm proud),
to cook, play pool and sing to my niece,
who stubbornly insists she's now taller than me.
Where my babe will borrow my nephew's new gift,
playing his drums until he gets a whiff
of my chocolate macaroon pizza pie,
and he'll zip down the stairs to give it a try.
It's off to the movies but, due to a flood,
we get rerouted, which works out good
for the missionaries, neighbors and friends,
that all end up joining us in the end.
We'll take photos & eat till we're sick,
play Balderdash & some booty we'll kick,
open our cheery gifts & take a nap,
swear to each other that we'll be back.
Yep, it used to be frost, sludge & snow,
shivering because it was nearly 20 below,
saying that just meant the holidays were here,
and that made the fire all the more dear.
But this year we've had a Christmas true,
half a country away from what we knew,
because celebrating a real Christmas, to me,
is just being part of a cozy, warm family.
