Last minute Christmas preparations

I'm a procrastinator in every sense of the word. I even put off buying, wrapping, giving gifts. Instead, I went out in the snow yesterday. I tried to build an igloo; the snow was too fluffy. I tried to make a snow angel; I stepped in and ruined its shape. I tried to chase my dog; I fell on my knees into the cold and stayed there for longer than I thought comfortable. The holiday season just puts me in a leisurely mood which creates my leisurely pace. I slowly begin preparing for Christmas at the beginning of December, miscalculating, always, how much time I have. Christmas never seems to be near until it actually is. Then all chaos erupts and I'm left blogging about my own personal downfall: procrastination.

For another class, but I thought I'd share here.

The Things That I Don't Remember
(in the voice of my grandmother)
by A.S

I say I am from
leftovers:
the war, fierce,
the food, scarce.
I remain unsatisfied,
wrapped in pestilence,
desperately searching for
a fragment of hope
that mingles
with the stars.

I say
"I am from Poland."
The real thing,
(not a mirage)
holding Her ground
like a mother
cradling her newborn
in an atmosphere
of hate,
of threat.

I say I am from a land where
lore and legend
lead faithful minds,
and knowledge
leads to
violent death
instead of
faithful lives.

I say I am from
mother's woolen scarves,
father's cobbled shoes,
brother's overalls,
brother's teeshirts,
brother's socks,
sweaters,
the clothes I love.

I say I am from
a race
of giants
whose footsteps
trudge a distance
of oceans
and continents
faster than
planes
ever could.

I am from
things that aren't funny,
things that aren't easy,
things that aren't portable,
redeemable,
answerable,
comprehensible.

I am from
a myriad of embellished stories
told to grandchildren
I will soon forget.

I am from
one teaspoon of sugar
in my tea
today.

I am from
the day after soon.

I am from
"Is that you?"

I am from

I am

I