I SAW MYSELF ON A FLOAT

I returned to my hometown on a gray December day
And stood there on the street to take in the Christmas parade.

Imagine my surprise when I saw myself on a float.
Me, five decades ago. A shivering kid in a coat.

I was swept into the past, but stayed in the place I was.
The old street returned anew. I could hear the crowd's applause.

And the clarity returned. Gray is gray and dogs aren't cats.
Dads in solid coats and ties. Moms in complicated hats.

Dinner at noon on Sunday, when we praise God for our fates.
The potatos, mashed of course. A potroast graces our plates.

There's snow and plenty of it, scenes of sledders and skaters.
There's hot cocoa on the stove and gloves on radiators.

And there's my grandfather, Bob. A constant man of good will.
With his labors done in joy, and his promises fulfilled.

Oh, the world watched me in awe that day these many years long gone.
I was the future then, but wait! With time, what had I done?

I count more mistakes than feats on a too short list of tries.
Did virtues outnumber vices? Or is it just a tie?

All those days, what had I made? A life? Or just a living?
(Funny, that yearn for praise when the need might be forgiving.)

Then I saw my niece's face, how it glowed with artless glee.
I swept back to here and now, and returned to being me.

To family and to home and the season that awaits.
We'll gather, feast and toast, and praise God for our fates.

We have new members now, who'll know me in late flower.
They'll grow up and ride their floats, then they will seize the hour.

Perhaps I'll be to them a constant man of good will.
With my labors done in joy and my promises fulfilled.

The past is not the past until chance is disallowed.
The parade that really counts is the one you're watching now.

So, there it is for all to see. Redemption of a sort
On a cold December day for a shivering kid in a coat.

-- Steve Stinson