LOOKING FOR PRETTY THINGS

I remember a time when I wondered,
What is a pretty thing?

I thought other people seemed to know.But why didn’t I?

Were pretty things just for other people?
Or, was it just not in the cards for me.

Was I dumb, or stupid?
Or did I just not know what was going on?
Maybe I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.

I was too young. I didn’t know the world very well.

Maybe I just had poor taste and lacked good breeding.

What happened to me?
How can a young man’s dreams be gone?
Where had my imagination disappeared to?
Do you suppose I wanted to be a millionaire clone?

Then I began to look around.
Bright lights, lovely music, enchanting aromas,
Beautiful atmosphere, elaborate decor, charming gifts,
Warm and happy feelings, intriguing novelties,
Pleasant people, laughter and singing, the world’s best of Everything.
How could it be?
There at my finger tips…..pretty things.

Then I awakened.
I had seen pretty things before.
I remembered my mother.
I remembered Christmas.
I remembered how my mother made Christmas pretty.

Come holiday time, mother sent me into the woods.
She said, “Bring back some holly, and a small leafless tree
If you could. Wait until I get through with it,
And you’ll see it is going to be something pretty;
It’s going to be something good.”

Then mother would come home from the office,
With two giant cardboard rolls;
I’d wonder “what in the world will
She do with this?
is she now building telephone poles?”

She said, “Get me some silver wrapping paper;
And bring me some red ribbon too;
I’m going to turn this into a candle.
You’ll see it’s going to be a pretty thing;
watch what I’m going to do.”

Then there were the fancy table arrangements.
They almost always were homemade.
I could never forget those.
Mother had the cutest ideas.
“I need Styrofoam, paper, and old shoe and some paint.”
Mother turns her head for a moment;
And off to work she goes.

Mother always tried to create pretty things.
As a kid I didn’t always notice;
“Wherever there is a will, there’s a way,”
she’d often remind me.

Mother never gave up.
Pretty things.
I remember, mother.
There is more that’s really pretty,
Than at first catches the eye.
Thanks for helping me see what’s really pretty;
What you did for my sis and I will always be pretty.
Your memories of what is pretty will never, never die!

Copyright © 2006. David Hammock. All Rights Reserved.