A memory of Christmas past

Come along now she'd say to me and then together we would knead
two strong arms and a floured face, this woman had love and speed
It was Christmas Eve, and I will never forget her zeal nor her passion
"Where did daddy hide my birthday cake?" she'd ask with a tiny smile.
She was born on Christmas Eve, and that took her as close to the babe
as anyone could get. In those days we didn't have much money,
mom would always give us pajamas, including dad.
Today as I recall our tiny silver tree, I feel blessed and very glad.
It was the seventies back in the good old days of Montreal,
we were rich in traditions, wealthy with love and laughter. We had
genuine guidance from struggling immigrants who knew the value
of sacrifice and love.
Later in the evening after a good plate of pasta and meatballs, dad
would whisper in my year, " Figlia, go get your moms cake" and
without being told where it was, I would go to the garage and fish
the cake out of the cantina. " Candles were lit and Christmas was
honored in the family, Happy Birthday mom, Merry
Christmas Jesus!