You remember how it was—
the tree your father cut,
your brother and you, tinsel
everywhere. The strands of bulbs
that wouldn’t light. You hold it
close—the laughter, the warmth.
True, your parents argued,
your brother teased.
But in your later years,
you choose the versions
that sustain you.
Jennifer L. Freed writes mostly poems and sometimes writes very short stories.
At 83 this is really true. Happy holidays to you and yours. Thank you for this one. It hit home.
Oui; Je me souviens. Merci.
Love this! Memories can truly sweeten as the years go by.
So true! Loved your story ❤️
Thanks to all of you. May your holiday be bright.