Memoirous

Repost from https://www.skylarb.com/post/waiting-for-christmas?fbclid=IwAR32vdhIrqhKqIK9NNC2t0JCdqU_ynNSm7C_PgK3hbiF7LNjgCHIp2j-zrg From Ancient Paths Waiting for Christmas by Jane Hertenstein At Christmas every light comes on, in the basement where my daughter home from college retrieves ice cream, in the dining room a lamp illuminates the abandoned puzzle, the laundry nook dazzles, while the back porch radiates a smoky incandescence, the TV flickers a blue twilight, in the middle of the night my heart pulses as I reflect. Soon the house will be silent, the only light the bulb above my reading chair.

I got an acceptance in early December from a journal that posts on Facebook called Ancient Paths. I was slated for Christmas Eve, The small prose poem has to do with waiting not just for the arrival or birth of Jesus but about waiting for the arrival home of loved ones. I composed the poem when Grace was in college (or perhaps off somewhere). The sudden appearance of youth, of someone who left lights on, stayed up most of the night, who ate at unregulated hours--a whole shambles to my routine and schedule, my house rules, whatever--and then gone, the place empty of life and now sad. "Waiting for Christmas" by Jane Hertenstein At Christmas every light comes on, in the basement where my daughter home from college retrieves ice cream, in the dining room a lamp illuminates the abandoned puzzle, the laundry nook dazzles, while the back porch radiates a smoky incandescence, the TV flickers a blue twilight, in the middle of the night my heart pulses as I reflect. Soon the house will...