Work Text:
In one cold and wet December when she was no more than three,
Little Sara made an angel for the Murphy Christmas tree.
While her mother twisted wires into halo, dress, and wing,
Sara's glue-and-paper coating made it shine,
And the mess they made was worth it when she saw the final thing,
Thinking, this is perfect and it's mostly only mine.
She remembered Daddy touched it,
And he kindly cracked a joke,
Maybe there were other factors,
All she knows is that it broke.
Sara Murphy, now a sister, lets her brother near the tree,
Since he cannot reach the branches, she at least can let him see.
Milo’s eyes are wide and happy, and his little fingers cling,
Sara hugs him close and lets him make her warm,
One new bauble labelled Milo dangles lightly on a string,
Murphy’s Law prepares the evening’s perfect storm.
Unwrapped presents catch on fire,
Sara stops it, knows the drill,
Dad is proud she acted quickly,
She can’t cry, or Milo will.
It’s another Murphy Christmas, things go wrong, what else is new?
Sara has her family with her, and they’re—well, they’re making do.
Things will fall or snap or shatter, crash and buckle, flood and flop,
And they’ve bought a second Christmas tree to spare,
There’s a dog who’s underfoot, a manic blizzard that won’t stop,
And a family who’s done nothing but prepare.
Milo’s bouncing from excitement,
Come on, Sara, come and see!
And the handmade star he gives her
Finds its place upon the tree.
There are those who wouldn’t get it, why she loves this time of year,
When the house becomes more hazardous with extra Murphys here.
Sure, the lights will pop and fizzle; sure, they’ll slip on hidden ice,
And the care with which they decorate the tree
Could well be all for nothing, but the family part is nice,
And a Murphy knows that love at least is free.
Sara’s grown to trust in Christmas,
Takes each challenge well in stride,
Why not choose to yet be happy?
Christmas comes, enjoy the ride.