In these cold, early hours
Of Christmas morning,
When it is just me and the dogs
And a tree decorated with memories,
I cuddle in my throw
And sip my cocoa
As I think of the women
Who have graced my life:
My mother,
My grandmothers,
Their friends and mine,
And, of course,
The endless, colorful parade
Of acqaintences
Who have passed in and out of my days.
Every one has been
A teacher, a muse, a mentor,
Leaving bits of themselves
Like gifts
That change me
In ways
I don't always appreciate
Until after their tenure
Has long since ended.
So as I recall their passing,
Either in life or in deed,
I silently toast them with my mug
And thank them
For the wisdom they've imparted
In words and experience,
And embrace the ever-changing woman
They've left behind.