Love, Your Christmas Baby

by Meg Brodeur '24 on December 8, 2022
Portfolio Co-Editor


Christmas


a christmas tree
photo creds: pexels

It is December 28, 2001.

For the past month, Grandpa’s record player has been dedicated

Almost exclusively to Nat King Cole’s Christmas album.

It has been 28 days of “The Christmas Song,” “Joy to the World,” and “O Holy Night”

But today your home rests in an unusual state of quiet.

Scraps of wrapping paper and tinsel decorate the floor.

The hardwoods feel the absence of three jovial children and one fluffy, four-legged angel.

Today, they’re down the street at Aunt Jen’s house,

Patiently waiting for the arrival of their newest family member.

Mary is ecstatic and unaware that she will be my second mother,

Katie tenderly welcomes yet another squishy-faced baby into her life,

Chris prays that I’m a boy and drops the phone dramatically

when you call to tell him that he has a third sister.

Luckily his disappointment is short-lived

And when they meet me for the first time, he becomes increasingly concerned about me,

Specifically, the “cuts” and “acne” on my face.

Newsflash, Christopher: I just exited a womb; my skin is doing its best.

Mom, despite having just given birth to your fourth child,

You let everyone pile into your hospital bed

And swaddle me in a soft purple blanket.

Dad, you’re behind the video camera,

Capturing the welcome of a very lucky Christmas baby.

Listomania

by The Cowl Editor on December 8, 2022


Christmas


Best Acts of Kindness for the Holiday Season

  • Hold the door for a fellow Friar
  • Donate old toys, books, or clothes
  • Bake cookies for your friends 
  • Pick up litter 
  • Go to your professors’ office hours
  • Buy coffee for the person behind you in line 
  • Do the dishes for your roommates 
  • Give your professor a holiday card
  • Tell your family that you love them 
  • Thank the Ray workers
  • Give your professor a good “Rate My Professor” review

Tiff and Earl

by The Cowl Editor on December 8, 2022


Christmas


Dear Tiff and Earl,

I want to give Ed Cooley a holiday present. What should I give him?

Sincerely,

Ed Cooley’s #1 Fan


Hey Ed Superfan!

I heard that a coach’s favorite present is the win he gets off the court. Show coach Cooley some holiday spirit and consider showing your Friar giving spirit by donating to a local charity or toy drive this Christmas. Use the holidays to show coach Cooley why he picked the No. 1 school, Providence College!

Show That Spirit!

Earl 

image of earl


Dear Fan,

This will be cute: roll yourself up into a little Christmas basketball and roll down right into his little office and pop out and give him a merry little Christmas scare.

Christmas cheer,

Tiff

image of tiff

A Green Sweater

by Taylor Rogers '24 on December 8, 2022
Portfolio Co-Editor


Christmas


a green sweater
photo creds: pexels

I pull my knit sweater over my head, 

The soft green fabric kissing my skin,

Simultaneously tugging at my curls,

Peering over my shoulders curiously as I debate: jeans or leggings?

My sweater embraces me, 

Gently reminding me of rainy days,

Days Dad and I would sit indoors, 

Eyes eagerly scanning a puzzle as we tried to pick up the pieces,

Putting together our incomplete picture, 

One we can’t resolve no matter how hard we try.

The vivid green is equivalent to my mother’s eyes,

Eyes that always held love for me despite a tongue that failed to do the same,

Invoking matches that were burnt against cigarettes,

Igniting flames that often caused more damage when they were put out.

Tainted tear drops still stain the sweater’s inseam, 

Ensuring the memory of her is never eased,

As my first heartbreak forced me to turn to my item of comfort,

Questions and confusion being whispered into the sleeve’s arm,

As I wondered why I wasn’t good enough for love.

Perfume that fails to go away after fifty washes still makes me shiver,

As simple times with shining sunrises run through my brain, 

The beach’s natural scent a consistency,

No matter the distance I travel from her sands,

Her lands of golden seashells and mysterious pearls. 

My alarm snaps me back to reality,

So I slide on my jeans and Vans,

Which fail to offer the love of my sweater.

Yet I still wear them,

Allowing them to embrace my skin,

As I go out and make a new memory in this attire.

Rockefeller in Winter

by Caitlin Bartley '24 on December 8, 2022
Portfolio Staff


Christmas


a christmas tree
photo creds: pixabay

The glow brightens the scarlet on my nose

and the burning in my chest.

It’s impossible to hide in the radiance,

Hands reaching for hands,

ungloved.

My want sticks out like a sore thumb,

Shining and blazing in the city crowds.

Even when the biting cold

of December stings my cheeks,

I can feel the warmth of New York

amongst the flickering lights.

Times Square 

by Max Gilman '25 on December 8, 2022
Portfolio Co-Editor


Poetry


a blue jay
photo creds: pixabay

“Death to the sky!”

Cried ants being beaten out by human heels.

Each morning the crows wake me 

With cackling cries. I think

At least fifty flock to my room.

Spirals without direction,

Drawn in the earth,

Drawn from the ant’s mind,

Aimless spirals, because what the hell

Were we ever following?

Ants and crows don’t speak

Like humans do.

Humans and humans don’t know each other

Like crows and ants do.

I know the crows are in my head

But they still rip me 

From my bed

I wish to cry with ants tonight,

I wish I knew their burden,

I wish they knew mine.

Yellow Jacket 

by Kate Ward '23 on December 8, 2022
Portfolio Co-Editor


Christmas


a bumblebee!
photo creds: pixabay

I saw you on my walk today. I was listening to some Christmas song and wishing that the drizzle was snow. You were huddled in a crescent moon on a concrete step; your antennae wilted like the flowers you flew past in favor of stinging my arm. Normally when I see you like this it is early November, not a few days after Thanksgiving. The cold seeped into your small yellow and black striped body, and you grew tired. Was the concrete a pillow in your eyes? Was it a safe resting place? Or did gravity and frigid temperatures yank you down just inches from your hive? 

You know, you stung me three times when I was in elementary school, and I hated you. I took every opportunity to step on you and the rest of your species when you were crawling around, wounded. I hated you, yet…there was a heavy sadness knowing that you wouldn’t return home. You wouldn’t continue to fly around and harass everyone on a hot summer day. I’m glad the cold is what took you away, the most natural way of doing things, rather than ripping out your insides and leaving your poison in my body. 

I hope the snowfall this season allows for more of your comrades to drift into a cold peace. I hope that people realize you take care of our environment like honey bees, you take care of pests, and you deliver karma to those who need it. I think if you hadn’t stung me, I wouldn’t be thinking about you in this way. Maybe I deserved a little karma, a little wake-up call. I think that wake-up call gave me the room to think about you now with a little more compassion, and I think that’s what I needed. I think that’s what everyone needs. Thank you.

Thank You Notes!

by The Cowl Editor on December 8, 2022


Christmas


 

hearts coming out of an envelope
photo creds: pixabay

Mom and Dad, thank you for believing in me and supporting my love for writing. I love you both so much!

Megan B.


I’m thankful for one of our lovely UG2 workers in Davis, Vita. Thank you for everything you do, your work and your kindness do not go unnoticed. 

Kate W.


To Gil Donohue, who might read this: thank you for Lessons & Carols, and for choir week in and week out. You are, as they say, a goat.

Fiona C.


” A huge thank you to my family – You support me in all my endeavors and are my greatest cheerleaders. I would not be where I am today without you! ” – Sara J.


To the ladies at the Ruane Starbucks, thank you for keeping me alive this semester!

Sarah K. 


Thank you Sonia for your wonderful omelets every day! You help make the start of every morning extra special.

Taylor R.


Thank you to my family and friends for always providing comfort and love. I appreciate it more than ever during the holiday season

Caitlin B. 


Class of 2023, thank you for being so great and making these four years the best! 

Anna P.


Thank you to the AMAZING Cowl editors and writers who’ve worked so hard this semester!

Sarah M. 


I have a lot of people in my life that I want to thank. Not just for being nice to me but for just being in my life. Being someone I can count on when I have no one else to turn too, people who I know will always be there for me even when others turn their backs on me. I’ve known these three idiots for almost half my life. And I’ve never been more thankful for their existence. They’ve gotten me through incredibly rough times and I can’t imagine my life without them. To my best friends in the entire world, thank you.

Connor R.

The Unthinkable

by Max Gilman '25 on December 6, 2022
Portfolio Co-Editor


Poetry


a mom and child under an umbrella
photo creds: pixabay

I hate the way the sun goes down in the evening.
I love to talk with strangers.
I hate to say I could be happier.
I love dancing beneath pine trees.
I hate how I can’t climb ten feet up any tree trunk.
I love appreciating stillness.
I hate spiders and centipedes.
I love to kill them.
I hate to forge a smile.
I love rainy nights and cloudy days.
I hate mirrors.
I love it when grandma phones me.
I hate choking down cold medicine.
I love nostalgic smells.
I hate looking at my words.
I love to pretend.
I hate breaking promises.
I love fiction.
I hate cold stares.
I love to hate everything about myself.

I hate ranking.
I love color.
I hate boxes.
I love mountains.
I hate curbsides.
I love windows.
I hate telling.
I love showing.
I hate practicing.
I love performing.
I hate waiting.
I love running.

I hate how I love to kill bugs.
I love insects with their little lives and wayward worlds.
I hate to ruin lives.
I love to say things I am unsure of.
I hate long car drives.
I love older couples.
I hate walking through cities.
I love to see things from a new perspective.
I hate to be looked at.
I love attention.
I hate the shower.
I love singing high-pitched notes I cannot hit.
I hate walking with pace.
I love to confuse.

I love the smell of Church.
I hate my birthday.
I love goodbyes.
I miss my parents.
I wish my words wouldn’t puddle.

I want ink to burst from every hair follicle on my head.
With no secrets left to hide.

Aphrodite

by Meg Brodeur '24 on December 6, 2022
Portfolio Co-Editor


Portfolio


venus, goddess of love
photo creds: pixabay

The Goddess of Love donned a velvet crimson dress softer than rose petals. She strolled along the city’s cobblestone walkway as the water sent an autumn chill to brush against her skin. Lifting her gaze to the sky, the moon looked back at her, revealing only a sliver of its full, plump figure. She rolled her eyes at its secrecy and relished in the few stars dwelling in between the clouds. The streetlamps highlighted her ethereal glow and drew the attention of the strangers who passed by her. Aphrodite rid herself of gawking men with the simple snap of her slender fingertips. She perched herself on the park bench closest to the silky midnight tides. From across the bay, she felt a thread forming between two lovers who were lounging together in a state of mellow bliss. Thinking of their home, her mood softened. They lived in a cozy cottage, tucked away from the obnoxious city lights. Inside, the two paramours reclined together on a well-loved emerald-green sofa with threadbare upholstery. Neither seemed to mind the condition of their furniture, or the paint that had smudged from her hands onto his cheek. Next to them was a half-finished portrait of him. She’d promised herself only a short break before returning to her work. But every time she got up, he urged her to come back. And every time she got up, she missed the feeling of his arms around her. So she gave in, and with their limbs intertwined, they fell asleep by the crackling hearth.