Three Christmases

Three Christmases

Growing up, I thought I had it all.

Three parents,

Three Christmases,

Three times the presents.

 

At my step-daddy’s,

We would have a big dinner

Followed by staying up late

Trying to catch Santa.

Then we’d wake up at an hour

Far too unsuitable for the adults

And wait, our eyes glossy as

We stared at that delicious pile of presents.

 

Then we’d go to Mommy.

As soon as we walked in we saw

The glare of shiny paper,

Organized into piles for my brother and me.

I was the designated present-passer-outer for years.

We’d tear everything apart,

Eventually getting too eager

To remember the garbage bag waiting.

 

And when the next Sunday rolled around,

My daddy would take us to the store,

Say “you have this much money”

And let us loose.

The hardest part of that day was to choose

Between the giant stuffed dog

That would deplete my money

Or the pretty art set,

Even if I knew I’d lose all the pieces

Within weeks.

 

Step-daddy just dropped off all my belongings,

Furthering the finality of the end of regular Friday visits.

Mommy hasn’t had anything nice to say since February,

And it’s May now.

And Daddy? Well I don’t know about him.

He said he’d call but he never did.

It’s just like when he left the first time,

I just don’t know if I’ve scared him from coming back.

 

So I don’t think I’m going to have three Christmases this year.

In fact, I’ll be lucky to have one.

Oh yes, I’m a very lucky girl.