Santa Came In Ballet Slippers

Santa Came in

Pink Ballet Slippers

Remembrance of Christmas Past: 1952

'Twas the week before Christmas when all through the house

there were comings and goings affecting Dad's spouse.

No stockings were hung by the chimney with care

'cause Mom in her flurry had no time to spare.

Tim and Mike were running amok in the heads

while bouncing and jumping on each of their beds;

and Beth in her pj's and me in my gown,

had eaten our snack and just settled down

when out in the kitchen there arose such a clatter

we sprang from our seats to see what was the matter.

Away to the doorway we flew like a flash

jumped over the kitten, and fell on Ol' Dash.

The hands on the clock by the window did show

the time was past eight--and it started to snow--

when, what to our wondering ears we did hear

but our Mom in great pain she cried with no fear

"The time is a-wasting," she said really quick.

We knew in a moment, this wasn't a trick.

More anxious than ever, our Dad called us by name,

And gave us directions without laying blame

"Now Beth, now Mary, you must do some fixing

Get Tim and Mike to stop all the kibitzing--

To the top of the stairs! To the top of the hall!

Now dash away! and, please, watch you don't fall!"

As fast as our legs could carry us high,

we flew up the steps, our brothers to pry

from leaping and springing on beds that were new;

they frolicked so hard their faces were blue.

Then, the next instant we heard Dad's reproof

"To the hospital we're going--for this is no spoof--

The baby's a-coming; I remember the sound

from last time Mawther was howling around."

"Be good to each other until I get back,"

Dad warned us, "or you'll all get the rack."

We quieted down, none of us making a hoot

as we watched them drive off--our Mom and her loot.

Sis Ali went to the hospital, too--oh, how scary--

her tonsils removed without even a fairy.

Beth, the oldest, resigned to keep us in tow

sent the boys to bed without taking one NO.

The days sped by quickly without Mom or Alice

and Christmas Eve came with no tree or palace.

Dad picked up some cold cuts from Q-Mart's fine deli,

but it wasn't the same without Mom's homemade jelly.

No cookies, or candy, or toys off the shelf.

I tried not to cry, in spite of myself.

Dad sent the boys up the stairs to their bed

and took B. and me to the basement instead.

He spoke to us softly and put us to work.

We wrapped all the presents he bought from a clerk

and filled all the stockings with candy and hose

then pulling the tree up the staircase we rose;

and strung it with balls, lights, and glittering tinsel,

then stood back to acclaim the sight with a whistle.

"It's the merriest Christmas Eve ever this night,"

Dad exclaimed as he scanned the room all a-light.

"In the early morn, to the hospital I'll go

to bring Mom and Ali home for Christmas, you know.

And a special gift for you all to enjoy--

not candy or cookies, not eggnog, nor toy..."

Dad beamed with that Boston Irish glint in his eye.

"It's a new baby brother, a gift from on high!"

"Now keep the work you've done to yourselves,

for we want your brothers to believe in the elves."

B. and I looked at each other--we knew Santa didn't appear

with his stockings and toys and eight tiny reindeer.

I in my gown and B. in her pj's with no zippers

had hustled around in our pink ballet slippers

and wrapped the gifts without our Dad's help,

to create a vision to make the boys yelp.

Santa had come, we'd tell Mike and Tim, --

a secret we'd hold ever tightly within,

'cause in our hearts we knew, as we smiled,

God, through His love had sent us Gerald--His child.