Every Christmas Eve I Think of Her
Born on Christmas Eve mother made her way
One of eight children, they named her Holly.
She felt she was robbed of a special day
Her gift lost in the other kid’s folly.
Family would gather, she’d open her gift
All waiting for the other holiday.
As a young child she was ever so miffed
For all she wanted was her own birthday.
Then long after I was married and grown
To give her a gift on this special day
The office would gather on every phone
And sing Happy Birthday, so loud and gay!
Twenty-six years of Christmas Eves gone by
To remember her always makes me cry.
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