Nearly Christmas As A Kid…
Never seemed to come.
That fiction.
That unique day
Shrouded by a dark, cold dawn
When parental patience became worn.
All routine stumbled astray,
Personal decisions were torn awry
By the promise of gifts to recover
And seasonal delights to discover
In a frenzy of indecision…
It wasn’t like home.
That friction.
That chaotic day
Clouded by a stark insularity
And behavioural insecurity.
Father’s temper would soon begin to fray,
The faked humour proceeding to run dry…
So the wrapped gifts would remain undiscovered,
Their contents waiting to be desperately uncovered,
Yet the magic for me was merely an apparition…
Pete Ray…
Excited.
Scared to climb from bed too early.
Frightened that my father would be annoyed.
Desperate to see whether what I had hoped to receive was actually there…
Sadly, later in the day, fatigue would creep in and my father’s sullen control would cloud the day for mum and me.
However, a visit to my Auntie Ivy’s house for tea and suddenly the evening was a glimmer of hope for a memorably wonderful day.
She would make a fuss of me.
Rare moments…
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