The log was in the fireplace
  all spiced and set to burn
At last the yearly Christmas race
  was in the clubhouse turn
The cards were in the mail
  and the gifts beneath the tree
And 30 days reprieve
  till Visa could catch up with me
And though smug satisfaction
  seemed the order of the day
Something still was nagging me
  and would not go away
A week before, I got a letter
  from my old great aunt
It read; of course I’ll understand
  completely if you can’t
But if you find you have some time
  how wonderful if we
Could have a little chat and share
  a cup of Christmas tea
She’d had a mild stroke that year
  which crippled her left side
Though housebound now, my folks had said
  it hadn’t hurt her pride
They said; "She’d love to see you
  what a nice thing it would be
For you to go and maybe
  have a cup of Christmas tea"
But boy! I didn’t want to go
  oh, what a bitter pill
To see an old relation
  and how far she’d gone downhill
I remembered her as vigorous
  as funny and as bright
I remembered Christmas eves
  when she regaled us half the night
I didn’t want to risk all that
  I didn’t want the pain
I didn’t need to be depressed
  I didn’t need the strain
And what about my brother
  why not him? She’s his aunt too!
I thought I had it justified
  but then before I knew
The reasons not to go
  I so painstakingly had built
Were cracking wide and crumbling
  in an acid rain of guilt
I put on boots and glove and cap
  shame stinging every pore
And armed with squeegee, sand and map
  I went out my front door
I drove in from the suburbs
  to the older part of town
The pastels of the newer homes
  gave way to gray and brown
I had that disembodied feeling
  as the car pulled up
And stopped beside the wooden house
  that held the Christmas cup
How I got up to her door
  I really couldn’t tell
I watched my hand rise up
  and press the button of the bell
I waited
  aided by my nervous rocking to and fro
And just as I was thinking
  I should turn around and go
I heard the rattle of the china
  in the hutch against the wall
The triple beat of two feet and a crutch
  came down the hall
The clicking of the door latch
  and the sliding of the bolt
And a little swollen struggle
  popped it open with a jolt
She stood there pale and tiny
  looking fragile as an egg
I forced myself from staring
  at the brace that held her leg

And though her thick bifocals
  seemed to crack and spread her eyes
Their milky and refracted depths
  lit up with young surprise
Come in! Come in! She laughed the words
  she took me by the hand
And all my fears dissolved away
  as if by her command
We went inside and then before
  I knew how to react
Before my eyes and ears and nose
  was Christmas past..alive..intact
The scent of candied oranges
  of cinnamon and pine
The antique wooden soldiers
  in their military line
The porceline nativity
  I’d always loved so much
The dresdan and the crystal
  I’d been told I musn’t touch
My Spirit fairly bolted
  like a child out of class
And danced among the ornaments
  of calico and glass
Like magic I was six again
  deep in a Christmas spell
Steeped in a million memories
  the boy inside knew well
And here among old Christmas cards
  so lovingly displayed
A special place of honor
  for the ones we kids had made
And there beside her rocking chair
  the center of it all
My great aunt stood and said how nice
  it was I’d come to call
I sat..and rattled on about
  the weather and the flu
She listened very patiently
  then smiled and said “Whats new?”
Thoughts and words began to flow
  I started making sense
I lost the phoney breeziness
  I use when I get tense
She was still passionately interested
  in everything I did
She was positive encouraging
  like when I was a kid
Simple generalities
  still sent her into fits
She demanded the specifics
  the particulars the bits
We talked about the limitations
  that she’d had to face
She spoke with utter candor
  and with humor and with grace
Then, defying the reality
  of crutch and straightened knee
On wings of hospitality
  she flew to brew the tea
I sat alone with feelings
  that I hadn’t felt in years
I looked around at Christmas
  through a thick, hot blur of tears
And the candles and the holly
  she’d arranged on every shelf
The impossibly good cookies
  she still somehow baked herself
But these rich, tactile memories
  became quite pale and thin
When measured by the Christmas
  my great aunt kept deep within
Her body halved and nearly spent
  but my great aunt was whole
I saw a Christmas miracle
  the triumph of a soul
She poured two cups, she smiled and then
  she handed one to me
And then we settled back
  and had a cup of Christmas tea.

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