A Christmas Eve recollection

The Christmas Eve night my late lover John DeGodt

took me to visit his mom, Betty, at her home. 

She taught at Franklin & Marshall in Lancaster Pa.

Amish Country,  Pennsylvania Dutch. 

We decided to go out into the countryside

to buy a quilt, of all things, on Christmas eve. 

As we drove into the dark night, 

the air was cold and clean smelling

and we could see nothing except occasionally

I could smell the intoxicating aromas of a smoke house

each time we drove past one. 

I promised myself I would buy a ham before I left there. 

The only sound we heard was that of our car. 

That was when I had the ’58 Jaguar.

Its twin Abarth exhausts were sharp

and crackling and sexy sounding. 

I could kick down the pedal

and joyfully make them sound

like a sharp machine gun. 

Those guys who ride the Harleys,

I know how they feel. 

The cold still night air echoed back our noise

and made our blood race. 

Still I felt like an intruder. 

I eased up, proceeding less aggressively. 

Now we were nearly silent - as we eased through the night,

the deep bass of the motor and exhausts were blanketed. 

The hush began.

It was eerie

it was beautiful, too. 

My spirit went way back in time to another era.  

It seemed very late and yet by the clock

it wasn’t much past seven. 

Neat signs at the side of the road proclaimed “QUILTS”,

and behind them, dimly lit houses.  

I had everything I could want. 

Bundled right next to me was the man I loved.

My beloved, my husband, my rock…

The wind poured in

through the loosely fitted

cloth convertible top,

our miserable heater ineptly offering

what passed for warm air. 

We were a cocoon on wheels. 

John squeezed my hand on the shift knob,

held it, and I felt his lips on my freezing cheek. 

“I love you Michael. Merry Christmas”

I can still hear his deep voice.

I didn’t need to go very far to find Heaven.

The air was bitter cold.

The black sky was filled with stars

there were no city lights

to distract from the clear air.  

We visited a few farm houses. 

They welcomed us - so politely.

Ladies in white bonnets.

Beautiful quilts - exquisite workmanship.      

Was this really Christmas?

There were no blinking holiday lights

on the outsides of their houses.  

No lights no trees or tinsel.  

Not even any electricity at all. 

Just small candles

to illuminate their dim rooms. 

Simple furnishings

It was a quiet thing. 

A quiet you could feel

People not affected by the holiday hype,

they had something which I sensed was deeper. 

That was the first time I saw it -

but I remember so well that feeling. 

now,  many Christmases later,

I sit alone, quietly,

stroking Blondie,

remembering my dog lulu,

my cat Iris

reflecting on my blessings,

each one a doorway to another,

and my friends, blessings all.

and instead of feeling alone,

or lacking something,

I realize how rich a thing life is,

and sense the message we are meant to get -

and I think of the prophets, all of them,

the same message in so many languages,

Peace on earth, and in ourselves

Love of ourselves, Self Acceptance,

Acceptance of others, for all that we are...

and what we aren't...

how silly mere words sound

the reality of it is so powerful:

keep dancing, if you dance

keep dreaming if you dream

keep loving - it's all there for you.

you're the one you've been missing.