A MAGICIAN

This poem was created from a story written as an exercise for a life writing class about the door of the house of our youth. I suppose it was written in free verse.

No Christmas lights at our house, you see.

Our family tradition was to drive around town to look at other family’s lights.

I was overcome with feelings of jealousy.

Our house did have not have even one Christmas light in sight.

Lights adorned our house at least one year.

The lights lay in a box in the garage all tangled and collecting dust

If we were to have Christmas lights, I would have to ask for them, that was clear.

Though Daddy would put up the lights, asking Momma would get results.

After creating a list of reasons to have lights, I was ready to state my case.

My stellar oral presentation planned came out as a high-pitched whine,

heard by only dogs and mothers.

Hearing my whiney request, Mamma’s ears perked up and she stopped in place.

She collected an old wire clothes hanger, twine,

choice twigs and branches snipped from evergreen shrubbery, some had red berries.

Momma set all items on a table and with her magical ways,

bent the hanger into a perfect circle with the hook part intact.

I was confused yet mesmerized by this force of nature.

This project of hers didn’t have one light, in fact.

I must be more specific in the future.

As if Momma made this ’whatever-you-call-it’ all of the time, she nimbly intertwined

the twigs with the coat hanger and held everything together with twine.

In little time, Mamma magically created the most beautiful Christmas wreath ever seen,

made with fresh greenery from nature.

Seeing the look on my face of both shock and delight, Momma explained,

During the depression, county folks made do with whatever they had on hand.

The wreath was hung on the front door with great pride during the holidays.

Our door was special that year. At least we turned the porch light on.

I did not miss Christmas lights, though it didn’t start a tradition.

Every few years I’m reminded of the wreath that Momma conjured up decades ago.

She always told me that during the Depression a dress for a quarter could be bought.

I would roll my eyes at the thought.

Now, I think that wreath that she made for free,

I pause and think that she may be a magician indeed.