Christmas 2010

by Amy Turn Sharp


the world looks different each year that passes
like a little lens
that I peer through and see a wider landscape
my life spreading out
I see my children and how they dance wild along the continuum of time
the time that slices slowly for them
that moves so slightly that they never see me change
they never see me jumping up and down in the backdrop of the day
raging and screaming for it to all slow down
and all they want is to push the clock
and tear the calendar
and make the morning come
and I can't seem to catch my breath or
find my steps
on the edge of all this love

but sometimes it's good to fall in step with them
to just throw all the shit down and sit on hard floors
and hold new shiny Christmas nutcrackers
and agree with them that this is the most beautiful thing.
to listen to my son tell me how it is perfect.
only he says "puuurfect" because his daddy is English
and sometimes we all sound alike.

and how if I try very hard there are nights where I can sit alone at my white kitchen table and instead of being fearful and petulant at the rushing away of each day
I can find peace

little moments where I allow myself to know
that even inside of the days that are hard
there are truths that stick out and spin right in front of my face

that even if all of my invincible skin has been torn away from me
that even if I have glimpsed the reality of how fast this is all going down
that even if I am scared sometimes by the way my heart feels
(because it is very big and sometimes cumbersome)

there is love here and it is big
it is big time love
and it is my job to spread it around