I was secretly wishing you’d once again
set out cookies and milk for Santa,
carrots for the reindeer. Instead, you were
the last ones to turn out the lights
and come upstairs.
Full house tonight.
It’s been years since we were all
under one roof,
asleep in your old bedrooms.
No LEGO sets wrapped and waiting
under the tree this year,
no ripping open packages before daylight.
You two slept in late with your spouses.
We opened grownup gifts,
a razor, fancy wine
toaster oven, kitchen tools,
a color printer for your computer
and gourmet coffee.
When you left for “home”
you claimed the two large
dusty bins from down in the basement,
bulging with LEGOS,
stuffing them into the back seat of your car.