Christmas at the Piano

My mother-in-law has a great sense of humor.

"Since you don't have anything to do right now," she says, just after we've discussed the move, the end of term grading, the end-of-year optometrist and dentist appointments, the house we're buying, etc., "why don't you practice some Christmas music, so that we can sing carols when you come this Christmas?"

Her words are music to my ears... or at least they are when I sit down at the piano. I stack the dozen or so piano books containing Christmas music in front of me, and start to pick through them. And I am astonished at how much better I play than I did last year, even though I haven't practiced Christmas songs since last December. Some songs I could never really finish last year are pretty easy, even on the first attempt. Wow.

And Mom's request does two things for me, beyond giving me the pleasure of playing Christmas music. For one thing, she's given me license to play every day, even with stacks of papers to grade and a ton of other obligations. And for the other, she's made it clear, in one sentence, that she values me and my gifts and wants me to share them--that she is looking forward to Christmas just a bit more because she'll have piano music playing in the house, because I'll be there playing.

Nice mom. Even nicer because I don't have a tree up this year (no sense in decorating, since we're loading up the truck starting on December 10). Now I get my little bit of Christmas at least once a day, when I sit down, lay my fingers on the antique keys, and play.

Let's Get Poetic!

I've found that poetry makes me happier than anything right now... perhaps because it switches my brain out of bored-mode, perhaps because it has little to do with the reality I'm living. However, today I want you to write a poetic ODE... to someone. This one is to my mother-in-law, and it captures one aspect of who she is:

To Barbara

Heavens,

But you are strong. 

Strong enough to bear

Abuse

Strong enough 

To thrive

To use the words

The hurts 

And grow.

But you are not strong

Not strong enough

To stop his anger,

To put aside his hateful words

To keep 

Yourself

Safe.

But you are still strong

Strong enough to work

Long hours

Strong enough

To keep yourself 

Together

When 

There is no food.

But you cannot be strong

When your children

Whined from hunger

Or looked with 

Big eyes

At what

You could never afford.

And yet, you are strong,

Strong enough to find 

Your happiness

And love

With someone 

From long ago.

Strong enough 

To take

That chance

And move to 

Unseen pastures.

But, no, you are not strong

Not strong enough

To stop his heart 

From breaking,

To keep his blood

From slowing down

To keep your love 

From dying.

And yet, 

Through even this,

You are strong.

Strong enough 

To stop your tears,

Strong enough 

To cry them—

Strong enough 

To smile

When his name

Is spoken.

Strong enough 

To stay

Surrounded by the remnants

Of all 

That you have lost.

Teach me that strength

Show me where I can

Grow that strong.

Who knows?

I may have need of it

Someday.

This kind of poetry is person-specific, and it's often very personal. From reading it, you may have no idea what any of it is about, but when I gave the poem to Mom, she understood every word. In a way, the poem was written for her and nobody else. However, it may hold meaning for readers anyway, especially readers who have survived abuse, who have pulled themselves out of poverty, or who have loved and lost. 

If you fear writing poetry and posting it here, that's fine, but at least tell me whom you WOULD write an ode to, if given the time. Who in your life deserves a poem? 

And if you ARE brave, and I know some of you are, post your own ode in the comments. I'd love to see what you can do!