Open Writing

Lois, standing by the gate, waved enthusiastically to the occupants of the four-wheel-drive as it drew away, two adults and two small curly-headed children, all waving and calling.

The car turned the corner. Lois's arm and smile dropped; she turned to go into her house to clean up the debris of Christmas.

'Christmas seems to come sooner every year,' she sighed, as she pulled the sheets from the beds and re-made them. At least her other two children lived nearer and had gone home to their own beds, even if not as early as she thought people with small overtired children might. She looked at the denuded Christmas tree leaning drunkenly to one side, the result of a skirmish between her twin grandsons over a previously undiscovered candy-cane. For a moment she had thought of asking their father to remove it altogether but couldn't bear the thought of cries of, 'Oh no Nana you can't.' or 'What happened to the twelve days of Christmas, Mother?'

Several Christmas cards blown or knocked from a shelf lay on the floor amid little bits of broken tinsel. She hesitated about putting them back. She could now safely bring out her precious things and put them on the shelves where they belonged.

She replaced the cards. Moving towards the cupboard to pull out her vacuum cleaner, she almost absentmindedly wiped sticky surfaces of crumbs, lolly wrappings and little finger prints. The girls had done a good job of cleaning up the kitchen (except for this morning's breakfast) and the dining-room, but somehow the lounge-room had escaped.

Vacuum cleaner activated, Lois paused looking at some finger-prints she'd missed on the face of the TV when she realized the cleaner was gasping and wheezing as though was choking. It was. A good five minutes of pulling and poking revealed a little red truck engorged in its gullet. She wondered if indeed its owner had even missed it. Children got so much these days.

Back in the kitchen, Lois remembered she'd promised Mrs Costa the Greek lady next door, a piece of her Christmas cake which had turned out particularly well this year. Perhaps some ham and turkey too, she thought, piling high a plate. She was almost at her front door when the bell chimed and there stood Mrs Costa, high piled plate of exotic looking goodies in her hand.

'Oh! I was...' They both started and then burst into laughter.

'Come in come in,' urged Lois. 'I've just finished cleaning up the mess.'

'But you've still got your tree, your decorations, your cards. How wonderful!' Mrs Costa enthused.

Then sadness like a grey cobweb crept across her face 'I didn't bother this year. The children didn't come. Anna and her husband find it too far to come and Peter... Well he is too busy, he says. You are so lucky.'

Yes, she was lucky.

Next year she'd ask Mrs Costa to join her and her family for Christmas -if she could stand the noise.

©C McMillan