Nutcracker

Christmas long ago

is the memory of a dream that seemed never to end.

But somewhere in the middle of that dream, I always did wake up

just in time to attend the Christmas Eve party

my Mama and Papa gave for me and my brother, Fritz.

Mama attracted interesting guests Papa said,

because she was beautiful and fascinating.

She was, he said, his wondrous peacock.

How full of anticipation I was.

"Dreamers need not be pretty,"

my godfather, Drosselmeier told me so very long ago.

My good, and, sometimes, very bad, godfather, Drosselmeier

was certainly the very strangest guest at those long-ago parties.

He was a genius, they said.

So it was especially strange to me that he behaved like a silly little boy.

And often, he frightened me.

But more often, and this is strangest of all,

I loved him better than anyone.

And I loved his presents best of all.

For besides being a genius, he was a very famous clockmaker

and toymaker and mouse catcher.

Dreams, like all my most precious gifts,

were from my dear godfather, Drosselmeier.

When I loved him, he was the kindest creature you can imagine.

He told me stories, every word of which I still remember.

But when he frightened me with his weird and childish ways,

and I could not bear for him to be near me,

he would punish me.

It was on such an occasion, when I was nearly 13 years old,

on Christmas Eve, that out of spite,

Godfather Drosselmeier gave me the most wicked dream.

I smile to think of it now,

that a nightmare could bring, like a sweet memory, such a strange joy.

It is a mystery I can never solve.

But I can never forgive my spiteful godfather for slipping into that dream

my bad little brother, Fritz.

The Christmas parties of long ago

all blur and mix in memory.

The real and the unreal becomes one.

How silly we children appeared.

Gawking and gaping at the Grand Promenade of our mamas and papas.

I will never forget the envy and delight I felt

at watching my parents.

And how badly I longed to dance with my beautiful Papa.

How my head whirled with the music and buzzed with my bad dream,

not cold enough yet for me to forget.

And Godfather Drosselmeier wasn't even there.