memory of my step-father, in December

Last night I found an old Christmas movie

I had loved when I was seven.

And so I watched,

the same scenes, through different eyes.

Understanding parts I had never before

understood.

And in doing so, brought you back.


Drinking wine did not help-

though it may have enhanced the sensation

of being taken swiftly down through a dark tunnel

of years and memory.

I saw your face, so very clear in front of me,

that it stopped my breath, and brought on instant tears.

I can only recall a few times when that has happened

over the past seventeen years,

and most were in dreams.


Forever difficult,

I did not want to to stay with you.

Only my mother.

Until one night when

I had no other choice in the matter,

there was nothing else to do.

She had to go, some late shift.

You must have known my strong

opposition to the matter.


I wonder if it hurt, or if you knew

what I did not,

and never would.

There must have been something comforting

about the kitchen counter,

where you had always fried the fish.

Perhaps its height put me more at your level,

somehow.


I was pleased with you once.

That time when you pulled out my first baby tooth-

I had been debating about it for hours,

and finally you sat me up there,

on the edge of that table.

I still do not know how you managed

to work some tiny miracle.


And on that wretched night,

when you had to play babysitter

to your know-it-all, brat

of a step-daughter,

you did.

It must have been quite a job.

I refused sleep,

and anything else you may have tried,

until you sat me on that smooth surface,

with those flecks of gold and green,

swimming through an off -white sea.


When I accepted your arms ,

it may have been sheer exhaustion

for us both,

but I let you hold me

and was comforted with a warmth that I cannot explain.

Walking through the house,

my cheek still on your shoulder-

because once I was there I wanted to stay.

I only hope that you knew for certain then,

that I did love with all my soul.


And though

you have been gone awhile,

last night I was in my grown-up living room,

and yet I saw you so alive, in that dimly lit kitchen

of childhood,

of Lantern Drive.

Those twinkling eyes, like Santa Clause.