Coal in My Stocking

Would you believe I
want coal in my stocking?

Do you remember the words
to "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town?"

"He's making a list,
He's checking it twice,
He's gonna find out
who's naughty or nice."

In my mother's childhood
the naughty or nice
list was kept and if
you were not good
you were threatened:
"You'll get coal in your stocking."

Faithfully every Christmas
my mother would lament
that when she was a girl
her brother, Johnny, the
infamous Johnny put coal
in her stocking.

Aghast I would always prompt
and what did you do?

Mother would sigh.

"Mama said, 'Go back to bed,'
and I did."

Pause.

"And in the morning, my stocking
was there with a penny and an
orange in it."

She'd shake her head. "A penny
and orange... not like all this."

She'd point to all the gaily wrapped
boxes under our tree.

"We had a tree in the parlor
but it was so cold in there
we would only snatch open
the door and peek in."

"One year I received a doll carriage.
It must have been made of cardboard.
I had to bend over double to push
it."

So it would go... story after story.

"We'd put a quarter in the gas
meter for light."

"We slept three in a bed...
ate pig's knuckles and soda
bread."

So, today on the cusp of Christmas
I long for a shovel of coal to
fill my stocking i.e. sock I'm knitting.

A photo op to prompt
Mama's stories...

Coal: not something readily available
in sunny Florida.

*My father owned a coal business
and my grandchildren have never
heard of the coal in the stocking
version of Christmas.

Strange what one longs for.

I'm gaining on sock #5.
Remembering Christmas past.