Judy Brumby-Lake

Christmas Cheer

Sprawled on a threadbare carpet in front of a TV set,

a small fragile child is mesmerised by the scene before

her: Her mother, dressed in silk, is descending an endless staircase towards a Christmas tree partially

camouflaged by numerous cloaks of coloured tinsels

and blinking lights that illuminate the heap of parcels

under it. Not far away, a small plump child

is dragging a large doll along the floor.

Through the window outside

can be seen a naked tree as snow gently falls.

At the sound of her mother’s voice,

the fragile child turns her head away

from the flickering of the TV set

and back to her own reality where on Christmas Day

she hears the sounds of buzzing aerobatic flies

over silver cans that have splashed amber fluid onto the

floor and where the aromas of cigarette butts

compete with the fragrance

of eucalyptus trees outside the window.

The fragile child’s mother, dressed in housewife

uniform and a sloppy No-Name tracksuit complemented

by fake fur slippers, walks melancholically towards the

child and mumbles,

“Here’s a parcel from me to you from the Salvos.”

With eyes un-engaging, the fragile child quivers,

“Thanks”, and then turns her head back to the TV set;

back to the world of fantasy,

back to the world that

she hopes will become her reality -

a Christmas Day of glitter and cheers.

© Judy Brumby-Lake