It was Christmastime
and I was at the age
when my hair was blonder
and my heart was lighter
Mama and I were under a blanket
gazing up at the Christmas tree
she told me to squint my eyes
and lean my head back on the couch
and when I did the yellow lights
we’d wrapped around so carefully
became fuzzy and soft
and glowed like starlight
I still remember Mama laughing
as I jumped out of the blanket,
tripping and twirling
in my footie pajamas
arms outstretched and
eyes half closed
but the real gift my Mama gave me
all those Christmases ago
wasn’t her laughter
or the sky full of stars
It was the realization that
things can look different-
if you just look at them differently