The gift of a poem, with hope for better days, on this isolated COVID-19 Christmas.
For as far back as I can remember, my mom has been giving poems at Christmas.
She doesn’t write one every year, and they aren’t usually addressed to the whole family. But some years, if you’re lucky, you’ll unwrap a box to find nothing inside but a piece of paper.
The verses usually give us all a good laugh that’s as much of a gift as the cash that usually accompanies them.
Most of the time, it’s because of a shopping excursion that didn’t work out as planned: Mom went out looking for the perfect present, but she came home empty-handed.
One year, I told her I wanted a chest for extra blankets that had been piled up on my bedroom floor. When she searched multiple stores without finding the perfect storage solution, I got 48 witty lines explaining how hard she’d looked and how tired her feet got before she finally gave up.
It ended: “Gran took the money/ stuffed it deep in this card/ saying ‘Here you go, Honey/ it won’t be too hard!/ Your blankies will surely/ have a nice place to stay/ when YOU do the shopping/ POST Christmas Day.’”
Once, my husband got eight couplets about how department stores don’t carry pants in his size.
But this year is different.
Coronavirus made it too risky for Mom to do her usual Christmas shopping, and our family won’t be gathered around in the living room opening gifts and enjoying a feast together like we usually do.
When I called Mom one night this month, she had a poem waiting. As she read it over the phone, I struggled not to cry too loudly.
I am thankful that though we can’t celebrate as we usually do, she’s still there in her big comfy chair by the fireplace, loving us all as deeply as ever.
This year’s poem isn’t just for our family. It’s for all of us who are lonely for the ones we love.
Woes of 2020
2020 — Oh what a year.
The threat of a virus has filled us with fear.
We’ve worked from our homes, donned ugly masks,
Stayed away from our friends, reduced in-person tasks.
Homeschool required to limit the spread,
Now the kids are all failing and school fills them with dread.
We must always stay six feet apart.
I think this rule has put stress on my heart.
My son and my daughter are trying their best
To comply with the mandates and limit their guests.
My grandchildren and “greats” I’ve not held in months.
Their smiles and their hugs I’m missing so much.
No Thanksgiving feast with laughter and fun
And Christmas now looking like a party of one!
We’ve washed our hands and used sanitizer.
We’re waiting, anticipating a vaccine from Pfizer.
Let the quarantines be over, the masks be all gone.
Bring on the vaccines and let this be done.
Covid-19, you’ve much overstayed.
So pack up your bags and get out of our way!
A flip of the calendar — 2021!
I pray it brings comfort from much grief and pain.
And I hope for good health and happiness again.
Come to me children, family and friends.
I love you so dearly and missed you this year.
I’m thankful and hopeful for good days to come,
With no fear of virus
And you all in my home.
— Midge Bilbrey, Dec. 14, 2020
