Christmas.
To be honest, it wasn't all as it was cracked up to be,
The food was great, we all had fun and lazed about,
but it just didn't feel like, well,
Christmas.
Dad and I were bickering all day,
and so the mood at times wasn't exactly cheerful.
I went to bed thinking about the day,
and how I began to doubt whether or not I'd
look forward to it again in the coming year.
Just when it seemed like another Christmas had come and gone,
I had one last gift, one last surprise,
a Christmas miracle if you will
(for all you cliché sentimentalists out there).
Earlier that day, Dez, my dog,
had started barking at the fence
and scratching at a pole lying next to it.
In fact, this is probably the biggest thing Dad and I had fought about
that day.
I said that there was probably something under it
and that we should take a look,
but Dad insisted that our neighbours probably got a new dog
and to let it be.
Stupid?
Yes, I know.
But the weather was hot
and we were both more wound
than a turn-key toy soldier.
However, it wasn't until the clock struck twelve, later that night,
(and yes I'm not being dramatic, it really was midnight)
that we discovered what it was.
"It's a blue tongue."
"What?"
My Dad told me from the hallway as he went back outside.
(For those of you who don't know, a blue tongue is an Australian
lizard with pale white skin, with brown stripes on it's back; it is
commonly recognized for it's blue tongue, thus its name)
I followed him and promptly informed him that
"I told you so".
He came back inside and locked the door with a key.
"What are you going to do with it?" I asked.
"Release it in the park."
(And for those of you who might think this is strange,
it really isn't. Where we live, the park near us is mostly
bushland, is quite large, and is home to many different
forms of wildlife; including lizards).
He looked at me then and asked,
"Want to come with?"
At twelve o'clock at night,
with nothing but a cheesy novel and pillows to keep me company,
I had nothing better to do.
So I looked right back and said,
"Sure, why not?"
And so,
there we were.
Sitting in the car with a box on my lap,
driving to the park at 12 past.
When we arrived, he got out of the car, and
tossed our reptillian friend from the box and into the scrub.
It did two backflips in the air,
before landing awkwardly in the tangle of grass.
I kinda felt bad for its rough landing,
but I'd be lying if I said I didn't laugh a little.
All the way home,
Dad and I laughed about the lizard's acrobatics
and talked about other things that had happened that day.
It felt nice.
Just talking,
and I felt like that was the first real smile
I'd seen on his face
all day.
Back at home,
I crawled into bed, and just lay there for a while.
I thought about things.
About the lizard.
About Dad.
About Christmas.
Dad then entered my room and walked over to me.
I sat up and he gave me a hug.
"Night Dad."
"Night sweetie. Go to bed."
He gave me a kiss on my head,
and tucked me in.
"Merry Christmas, Daddy."
"Merry Christmas."
Now this might seem mundane,
or ordinary
or nothing special.
But this:
this unexpected expedition,
this unforseen circumstance,
this event in which I feel like repetition
emphasises the inexiplicable feeling
that I feel.
Something so everyday yet foreign,
that brought disputes to an end and allowed
joy and peace to blossom.
Something so simple,
yet it managed to chang me in such a way.
It was this night to which I can call my own ordinary miracle,
that has stirred within me a hope;
a hope that next year's Christmas is worth looking forward to.
Because Christmas is more than just the hype;
the candy canes, the piles of presents and the Christmas ham.
It's magical.
And I don't care if it sounds childish or naive.
There's something special about the 25th of December,
and I refuse to stop believing that.
Merry Christmas,
everyone!
I hope you all found your own piece of
Christmas Magic~To be honest, it wasn't all as it was cracked up to be,
The food was great, we all had fun and lazed about,
but it just didn't feel like, well,
Christmas.
Dad and I were bickering all day,
and so the mood at times wasn't exactly cheerful.
I went to bed thinking about the day,
and how I began to doubt whether or not I'd
look forward to it again in the coming year.
Just when it seemed like another Christmas had come and gone,
I had one last gift, one last surprise,
a Christmas miracle if you will
(for all you cliché sentimentalists out there).
Earlier that day, Dez, my dog,
had started barking at the fence
and scratching at a pole lying next to it.
In fact, this is probably the biggest thing Dad and I had fought about
that day.
I said that there was probably something under it
and that we should take a look,
but Dad insisted that our neighbours probably got a new dog
and to let it be.
Stupid?
Yes, I know.
But the weather was hot
and we were both more wound
than a turn-key toy soldier.
However, it wasn't until the clock struck twelve, later that night,
(and yes I'm not being dramatic, it really was midnight)
that we discovered what it was.
"It's a blue tongue."
"What?"
My Dad told me from the hallway as he went back outside.
(For those of you who don't know, a blue tongue is an Australian
lizard with pale white skin, with brown stripes on it's back; it is
commonly recognized for it's blue tongue, thus its name)
I followed him and promptly informed him that
"I told you so".
He came back inside and locked the door with a key.
"What are you going to do with it?" I asked.
"Release it in the park."
(And for those of you who might think this is strange,
it really isn't. Where we live, the park near us is mostly
bushland, is quite large, and is home to many different
forms of wildlife; including lizards).
He looked at me then and asked,
"Want to come with?"
At twelve o'clock at night,
with nothing but a cheesy novel and pillows to keep me company,
I had nothing better to do.
So I looked right back and said,
"Sure, why not?"
And so,
there we were.
Sitting in the car with a box on my lap,
driving to the park at 12 past.
When we arrived, he got out of the car, and
tossed our reptillian friend from the box and into the scrub.
It did two backflips in the air,
before landing awkwardly in the tangle of grass.
I kinda felt bad for its rough landing,
but I'd be lying if I said I didn't laugh a little.
All the way home,
Dad and I laughed about the lizard's acrobatics
and talked about other things that had happened that day.
It felt nice.
Just talking,
and I felt like that was the first real smile
I'd seen on his face
all day.
Back at home,
I crawled into bed, and just lay there for a while.
I thought about things.
About the lizard.
About Dad.
About Christmas.
Dad then entered my room and walked over to me.
I sat up and he gave me a hug.
"Night Dad."
"Night sweetie. Go to bed."
He gave me a kiss on my head,
and tucked me in.
"Merry Christmas, Daddy."
"Merry Christmas."
Now this might seem mundane,
or ordinary
or nothing special.
But this:
this unexpected expedition,
this unforseen circumstance,
this event in which I feel like repetition
emphasises the inexiplicable feeling
that I feel.
Something so everyday yet foreign,
that brought disputes to an end and allowed
joy and peace to blossom.
Something so simple,
yet it managed to chang me in such a way.
It was this night to which I can call my own ordinary miracle,
that has stirred within me a hope;
a hope that next year's Christmas is worth looking forward to.
Because Christmas is more than just the hype;
the candy canes, the piles of presents and the Christmas ham.
It's magical.
And I don't care if it sounds childish or naive.
There's something special about the 25th of December,
and I refuse to stop believing that.
Merry Christmas,
everyone!
I hope you all found your own piece of
~mayan*
