‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
Mom was still stirring, as she snuck like a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
Then again, how else does Mom do these things, every day of the year?
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
Never really knowing, how much they fill Mom’s head.
While Mom set out all the gifts, she still had many doubts,
Had she done enough, or would her kids be without?
Gifts were bought, some more thoughtfully than others,
But Mom would buy more, if she had her druthers.
And Mom would do more, if only she could,
She’d buy more, and give more, and love more – of course Mom would.
Feeling tired, inadequate, and oh so worn,
Mom became the object of her own newfound scorn;
Not even St. Nick, with all his toys and cheer,
Could rescue dearest Mom, from all this Christmas drear.
But then suddenly, the strangest thing occurred,
Mom found near the glowing tree, a paper filled with words;
It was sloppily written, rushed and without pause,
This letter from Mom’s youngest, to Mr. Santa Claus;
“Dear Santa” it went, as Mom began to read,
“Here’s a list of all the things, I could ever want or need.
This list is short, though, so I hope it’s worth your time,
But the gift I’m asking for, is always on my mind.
So Santa, please give it to me, each and every year,
And wherever I go, please keep this gift so near.”
By now, Mom was curious, filled with much intrigue:
“What is this gift of a lifetime – what could it ever be?”
She continued reading, hoping to learn more,
Which soon she did, and left her fully floored;
Floored by the words that somehow made her whole,
This symphony of sweetness, this music to her soul:
“The only gift I’ll ever want, is the only one I’d ever miss,
So if I can have just one thing, Santa, Mom alone is on my list.”
The Music Mom: Eileen Carey 