Merry Christmas they said.

25/12/12

A modest deposit

lies on two feet in my bed.
It’s lighter this year or I’ve gotten stronger instead.

Santa’s not so slick

these days, he leaves the receipt in the bottom of the stocking.

Comforting at least to know the guy’s a local.

And you know, it’s the thought that counts. 

I run my Christmas day run on my Christmas day route because I remember it.

Then we go to Church, to think.

And I think about the people with nowhere to go today.

And wonder what I did to deserve presents?

But I don’t say anything because it’s Christmas and there’s enough going on already.

Mum is too busy for Christmas this year

preparing for Christmas this year

this year we have an unusually busy home.

There is

more string to tie

more cellotape to buy

rubbish to squash

plates to wash.

And my little cousins aren’t so small after all.

This year they are so tall, they run tanned fists up our piano and

down

down

down

down.

My head hurts but I don’t say anything because it’s Christmas.

Dad asks for some Christmassy music to be played.

Mum gets a Christmas call which makes the meal delayed.

To me it doesn’t really feel like Christmas at all.

But. There are awkward Christmas cuddles,

which way is your head going?

We bring the outdoor chair in from the garden so there are enough

around the table, Dad makes a toast

and clink we clink our glasses when

he meets mine says

to strong memory.

My head feels full.

I want to remember all the people in the room just as they are

for a long time to come.

Mum wants to know where the Vege sausages got to in the end?

And my sister checks 112 Merry Christmas Babe! texts, she

only knows 98 of the senders.

Sorry, who is this?  

I wonder that too

there are a few

pieces of merry memory left

I keep them close

The rest washes away I

fill my head with new things from this day

Hey, Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas they said.

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