T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
All creatures were stirring, yes, even a mouse
The stockings were hung by the walls with care,
In hopes that ole Santa Claus soon would be there.
Okay. I suck at poem making, even just editing them. Sigh. But I do love Christmas! And I love the poem (the original one, of course). It just struck me how different Christmas is in America (which was where Mr. Moore lived), and in our country. Christmas is usually just the same each year, but there’s always that thrill in your bones, so I don’t have any particular memory to write about.
Anyway, the first two lines of the poem already outlines the first difference. In the Philippines (or in our household, at least), most people stay up til 12am of the 25th, much like how everyone in the world stays up in New Year’s Eve. And that’s when we all open our gifts, with an appointed “Santa” calling out our names one by one. The next difference is in the third line, and is a bit, well, literal. We don’t have chimneys. Some houses do, most don’t. Too hot. Too expensive. And then finally, people in our country rarely call him St. Nicholas, so I thought it would also be appropriate to edit that out. Though it doesn’t make much of a difference. I could go on editing the whole poem, but there’s really no need to further mar something so beautiful.
It’s exactly 12 AM as I write. That’s eight days to Christmas. I. Can’t. Wait.