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My
Christmas
Memory
My
mother's
gone
now,
yet,
each
year
at
Christmas
time
my
mind
goes
back
a
few
years
and,
somehow,
it
seems
as
if
she's
here.
I
remember
happy
times
--
the
crackling
fire,
the
smoking
stove,
the
smell
of
fresh,
boiled
ham,
and
a
child's-eye
view
of
nut-filled
cakes
--
candy
cakes
that
set
my
heart
a-burst
with
joy!
And
I
shall
ne'er
forget
the
dumplings
and
the
hen,
that
bird
so
plump
and
scrumptious
that
let
me
know
Christmas
time
was
here
again!
Oh,
yes,
our
little
home
was
filled
with
cheer,
although
no
earthly
wealth
was
present
with
twinkling
lights
and
glowing
trees.
The
light
was
in
my
eyes,
the
merry
bell
was
in
my
heart.
And
hers.
Yes,
they
say
my
mother's
gone,
but
in
memory
she's
here.
I'm
grown-up
now.
There
are
youngsters
in
my
glowing
house,
a
house
of
twinkling
lights
and
festive
bell.
Maybe,
I
pray,
when
I
am
gone,
they,
too,
may
journey
back
to
Christmas
time
and
find
a
memory
good
enough
to
tell.
Copyright
©
1968
Ruth
Gillis
Previously
published
in
Tucumcari
Literary
Review
November/December
1994
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