Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the season
all the kids were stirring, for no f***ing reason.
The reusable Walmart bags were hung with no care,
in hopes that anyone, just anyone, soon would be aware.
The kids, ugh the kids, were balancing on their heads,
while the mommies and daddies all yelled, get in your damn beds.
And daddy with his stogie, and I with my pen,
had just relaxed our bodies for another short night in.
When out on the patio, there arose such a ruckus,
I jumped from my chair and screamed, “WELL, F*** US”!
Away to the closet I tripped, and I thrashed,
threw open the door, and down the left-over ornaments crashed.
The glitter on my breast of the just fallen decor,
gave daddy the fire to try and score.
When, what to my blurry eyes should revile,
but a dark blue van with a cyan arrow smile.
With a tired foiled driver, so lifeless and sick,
I knew in a moment Jeff Bezos was a prick.
As slow as molasses, he walked to and fro,
delivering packages from truck to porch in the snow:
Now Basics! Now Legos!
Now, Pottery Barn and Pattern!
On, Shein! On, Zappos!
On, Spanx and Simply Modern!
To the top of the windows!
To the top of the walls!
All these mommies, all these mommies,
All these mommies, crawl!
As tired mommies that before their pained Peloton thighs,
when they meet with the boxes, they all sit down and cry.
So up to those packages they drag themselves with their quiet boo hoo,
the boxes and envelopes and poly mailers too.
And then, with an inkling, I heard on the street,
the humming and breaking of a Fed Ex truck gliding down the concrete.
As I heaved a heavy sigh and rolled my eyes,
up the driveway the Fed Ex driver came with more of my merchandise.
He was dressed in black and purple, from head to toe,
and his clothes were all dingy with the sun’s afterglow.
More bundles of packages, it was really quite extraordinary,
and he looked like a real Santa Clause without the jolly and merry.
His eyes- -how they glossed over! His stride, how heartbreaking!
His feet looked like heavy rocks, his hands scabbed and flaking!
UPS arrived next, her mouth with gritted teeth,
and the glasses on her face were fogged up with what looked like a protective sheath.
She had a look of misery and an attitude that matched,
as she shouted at me to “please sign the attached!”.
With a listless face and dark bags under her eyes,
that puffed up when she shouted, like a scary surprise.
She was tall and fit, an athletic courier,
and I gazed when I saw her, I couldn’t help but feel inferior.
With the toss of the final box and a flip of her hair,
soon gave me to know we had both been hit with Christmas despair.
All three turned to their sleighs in accord,
and without even a wave, I had never felt so ignored.
Without a spoken word, I went straight to work,
and shoved in all the boxes, then closed the door with a twerk.
Covered in packages, I alone had to rally,
There was literally NO TIME to dilly dally.
But they heard me exclaim, as they drove out of sight,
“I’m not ready for Christmas, please just give me one more night!”
A special thank you out there to all the couriers who hustle during the holidays to help us get our Christmas’ just right.
And to those who need more time, it’s okay to give yourself permission to just be and enjoy each little holiday task you have left.
Merry Christmas!
xoxo Doña Monica