I havenít been home for Christmas,
Since my Mama passed away.
Weíve been celebrating at my house,
And Dad comes for a nice long stay.
Even once grown, Iíd think of home,
As the holidays grew near.
I couldnít always make the trip,
But my heart was always there.
My age made not a difference,
When it came to the holidays.
Cause going home for Christmas,
Washed all those years away.
Family traditions that never changed,
Made it special being home.
And made me feel like a kid again,
No matter how far Iíd roamed.
Over many years I gathered,
A treasure trove of memories.
Such as aromas from Momís kitchen,
And her secret recipes.
But this year Dad neednít travel,
Iíll be home for Christmas day.
Tho it wonít be like it was before,
Now that Mamaís gone away.
Iíll smile as I fight back my tears,
When weíre greeted at the door.
Cause Dad will open it all alone,
No, it wonít be like before.
On Christmas day Iíll slip away,
To go visit with my Mom.
Iíll place a wreath upon her grave,
While wishing she wasnít gone.
I know her spirit will surround us,
As we celebrate this year.
Smiling down upon the family,
That she loved and held so dear.
© 2004 by Kathleene S. Baker
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This writing may be used in its entirety, with credits in tact,
for non-profit ministering purposes.
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