Growing up
my playmate was Catholic
telling me tales of angels 👼
and miracles
out of this world
(to non-Christian me)
In a ‘third’ world ‘Buddhist”
metropolis
I was delighted by
carols in the air
Christmas cake 🎂, home-made
milk wine 🍷 and minced pies
generously showered on us
by caring neighbours.
I was fascinated by
Christmas parties with the
beautifully decked
Christmas tree 🎄
and Santa 🎅
who once even gave me this
cloth bound needlework
box with dividers containing
everything you needed to stitch,
talk about seamless
connectivity.
(My parents having been to Catholic schools)
and the air of Christmas was everywhere.
Now, in a country of a
different faith
the air doesn’t blow in
the cold dry breeze from
the Himalayas
heralding Christmas for me,
instead I tune into
the air-waves of a place
I left behind, online, and
listen to carols of a distorted nature
on the rock station and smile.
Here the malls are decorated to bursting with
gigantic trees, baubles, wrapped up gifts 🎁.
and I make this poem for
you, seated in my sun filled room
from a precipitous capsule in the sky
I call home.
Tomorrow I will go
to my daughter’s place
and cook a Thai/Italian fusion
Christmas dinner
for lunch
instead of the usual
roast and stuffing
(I did for my children),
for my grandson,
try to sing carols
with him possibly
decorate the place
together
spreading the
air of Christmas…
By Sharmini Jayawardena
24-12-10
