I guess I had heard "Santa Baby" enough times, through the speakers of every store, in between my ears, and out of the mouths of divas in sequins all December, and I just had it.
Was nothing sacred, what about Silent Night?
Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.
I just see the shoe prints in the snow of holiday shoppers.
I hear the roar of weather reports.
On a snowy night, I was called off from work.
I stood there motionless, like a child in the hay.
Somehow, despite my best intentions to stay holy
I ended up in a jazz bar,
on my night off with a glass of wine
talking to someone about Brazil.
I came home, my stomach rolling
wondering how I got so off track
especially when I have
gifts
to
wrap.
It's up to us ourselves to keep something holy and sacred
whatever it is, it has nothing to do with religion
it's about those moments
when the band starts
and you realize they are playing Ray Charles
and your heart lights up
and you get to hear
a soloist you've never heard before
as the winter sprinkles outside
and blurs the lines
you're inside
with candles
and it's a moment.
It's the moment of a lifetime.