“As the Bridegroom was delayed…”
Dad and I used to stay up late Christmas night.
He’d have his coffee in hand, reclined in his chair with his eyes looking up. From mid-November all the way to the end, the music was on, the voices so beautiful and haunting, my soul taken up by the angels and ghosts. I laid on the floor by the tree.
Santa delivered his gifts. The kids played our part and opened them. Breakfast was just enough to keep us hungry, for certain was the feast while spending the day at Grandma’s, crawling with toys in our tights and our dresses, filling up on milk and cookies.
If the others knew, they never mentioned it. Dad and I were the ones who noticed. Come Christmas afternoon, the snow began to melt away. There was always this feeling like we were saying goodbye, like we’d finished the race but were only just beginning.
There was always this feeling like someone was missing.
Like God has done exactly what He came here to do
Like Christmas has come and delivered the dream.