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and I do mean quick, to brush
teeth and hair, dab some perfume.
Screw the makeup, except to rinse
off what has puddled under my eyes.
Through the door, down the hall,
down the stairs and yes, while I flew,
Santa delivered my gift safe
and sound. He stands, moves toward
me, catches me in his arms, cinches
them around my waist, lifts me off
the ground. And now we’re kissing.
And I don’t ever want to stop kissing
him, even though the girls are squealing.
Ooooo! Cooties! Gross! Oooooo!
And we can’t help but laugh around
our kiss. And suddenly everything
is right. Everything forgiven. Every
minute apart and alone, forgotten.
We Spend Christmas Eve
Like a normal family—eating
and drinking and laughing together
like we’re a mom, dad, and uncle, plus a couple
of kids, instead of a father with two children
missing their mom and trying not
to resent their “nanny,” who has stolen
their uncle’s affection. Not that Trey
doesn’t play with them. He gets down
on the floor, helps them build a puzzle.
I watch, thinking what a great dad
he’ll make one day. I wonder if he could
