The snow crackles under my feet
As I make my way back to the farmhouse.
The newly cut Christmas tree
Leaving a solitary trail behind me
Covering my tracks.
I pause in my approach,
Absorbing all the smells
And sounds of Christmas,
Wrapping myself in the joy of the day,
The excitement within me.
Stomping the snow from my boots,
I lift the latch of the door
And am enveloped by warm little hands
And shouts of “Grandpa! Grandpa!
He’s brought the Christmas tree!”
We are all together again,
Recreating the Christmas days
When we were children.
Now with grandchildren of our own,
We mingle past with present.
The house glows with love
In the winter’s chill;
Warming the night
With its laughter and cheer
And bright colored lights.
I draw them all in
Surrounding them in a blanket of love,
Filling their hearts and mine
With memories that will last a lifetime.
How I wish I could soak it all in;
Keep every memory,
Every smell, every smile
Alive in my heart.
Then on cold and lonely nights,
Draw them out again
To warm the sadness
And transform the emptiness
Into the happiness we share tonight.
* * *
Says author Linda Boltman: “‘Grandpa’s Dream’ was written with my Grandpa ‘Shorty’ Boltman in mind. Growing up surrounded by all four grandparents, my bedtime stories were of their youth, describing in detail the first horse and buggy to come to town, the advent of electricity and inside plumbing and their fights for survival when everything they owned was lost in a devastating fire. Christmas was a magical time in our family, with Grandpa Boltman the leader of the enchantment. Every year Grandpa would take us out to pick out a special tree, cut it down and carry it home. I continued this same tradition with my family even beyond the time they were out on their own.”