As cheesy as it sounds, this is one of my favorite poems and I can quote most of it from memory! Merry Christmas Eve to all!
Eight Cousins sat around Grammie’s empty Christmas tree and sighed. All around them sat toys, books, and the last of the Christmas snacks.
“The day after Christmas is always so hard,” Grammie said.
“It looks like everyone has a bad case of the Christmas Blues,” Aunt Abby agreed.
“The Christmas blues?” Constance asked. “What’s that?”
“I’m not blue,” stated Imogene. “I’m a ginger.”
“Sometimes words can mean two things,” Aunt Abby explained, sitting down in the middle of all the cousins. “Sometimes a word like blue can mean a color, or sometimes it can describe a feeling. Being blue doesn’t mean you’re the color of Joshua’s eyes, but that you feel sad.”
“I do feel sad. I must be blue,” Jules said.
“Let’s see if a story would help,” Aunt Abby suggested.
“I think it won’t,” said Bruce.
“We should try anyway,” Aunt Abby advised.
Once upon a time, twas the day after Christmas, when all through the house, not a cousin was smiling, not even a mouse.
“We don’t have mice,” Ellie said.
“I know. It’s just a story. I’m making it up.”
The stockings were no longer hung by the chimney with care. St. Nicholas had come and gone, yesterday. The children stared at their piles of open presents all the visions of sugar-plums dashed with the holiday’s finish. And, Grandpa and Grammie never got their long winter’s nap.
Out in the pasture there arose such a clanging and banging, all the cousins sprang up to see what was happen’n. They rushed to the window on steady and tottering feet, and pushed through the blinds with fingers and noses.
The sun hid behind big stormy clouds, covering the earth with a sense of early night. The wind blew and blew with a frightening might.
What to their wondering eyes did appear, but snow falling from heaven to the pasture below.
“It’s like Christmas all over,” sang Jules with a smile.
“It’s a White Day-After Christmas,” Constance agreed.
More rapid than eagles, the cousins got on their coats, and Grammie, shouted and called them by name:
“Now, Julie! now, Constance! now Bruce and Joshua!
On, Ellie!, on, Imogene, on, Jude and Rook!
Out on the porch! Out out!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
Like dry Texas leaves caught in a wild wind fly, the cousins flew out the door tumbling and laughing into the yard. In a twinkling, they built a sweet little snowman with white snow mixed with sleet. Grandpa drew the door shut behind them and hurried off the porch. He dressed in winter clothes, from his head to his foot, and they were all worn from yard work and splitting wood. He bundled the cousins, one after the other, on his back, racing through the After-Christmas snow like a pedler with a pack.
Grammie, her eyes how they twinkled, her smile, how merry! Soon everyone’s cheeks were red like a rose and their noses like cherries. Uncle Price even peeked out at the snow, the stump of a pipe held tight in his teeth, and the smoke encircled his head like a wreath.
Everyone laughed and played until their bellies shook. They were all right jolly old elves. The After-Christmas snow had chased the blues away and reminded them they had nothing to fear.
Grandpa laid his finger to the side of his nose, gave a nod, and sprang up on the porch. To the cousins, he gave a whistle. Up they all dashed, tumbling over each other like the down of a thistle.
Grandpa spread his arms wide and exclaimed: “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good day!”
“And God bless us everyone,” Imogene added.
“AND GOD BLESS US EVERYONE,” everyone chanted.
“The End” Aunt Abby said. “Feel better?”
“I wish it would snow?” Joshua said with a loud sigh.
“Now, now, you can’t have the blues after Christmas!” Grammie exclaimed clapping her hands. “We have lots of good food, lots of fun toys to play with, and even better we have each other!”
The cousins looked to one side and then to the other and saw that Grammie was right. They did have quite a few cousins each. With a laugh and a smile, the jumped up out of the blues and ran off to play with the boxes their toys had arrived in.
(This silly story is obviously a rewrite of the traditional Christmas Poem, ‘Twas the Night before Christmas. Thus, the odd wording and the silliness.)
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,And laying his finger aside of his nose,And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”-A Visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clarke Moore
(My side of the family celebrates on Christmas Eve. Every year, before we open presents, we read this poem together!)