Recovery

After unaccustomed convalescent
immobility the ginger tabby
cautiously moves his back
legs and tail stepping carefully
to the back door down steps
to the back garden where he
attends to his private business.
Soon he will be chasing other
feline visitors off his
fiercely guarded territory.

Nana is catching up on
neglected activities after
her busy pre Christmas
sewing time. Elderly Brownie
with white muzzle and eyebrows
staring out of her coal black
face enjoys long snoozes
under Nana’s sewing desk.

After eleven long days
his family came home to
the joy of the black and
white cat. He and the eight
year old curled up together
on the couch while Mum
and Dad cooked dinner.
He purred loudly as she
stroked him, told him about
their holiday, enjoying
the family around him.

Haircuts

Mum felt better looking
at her tidy trimmed hair
reflection in the mirror.

The hairdresser pointed out
little brother’s thick curly thatch
would soon be hard to trim.

Brushing little brother’s hair
caused loud screaming sessions
but Mum still loved those curls.

Reluctantly she plucked little
brother from the salon’s toy
corner, placed him on the
special children’s cushion
on the hair salon chair.

But active energetic little
brother would not sit still
on the cushion so they stood
at the street window to watch
the cars go by. The hairdresser
snipped here and there as his
head turned from side to side.

At last the job was done
the thatch of curls scooped off
the floor into a plastic bag.

Mum went soberly home with
a cheery little brother and
a bag of discarded curls.

Afternoon Tea.

Mum wanted to take Aunty Jo
to a pleasant cafe for delicious
afternoon tea on her birthday
but the eight year old was still
wobbly after a horrible tummy
bug, had to stay home to rest.

The six year old and little
brother were deputed to
take Aunty Jo out,
ably supported by Nana.

In garden surroundings they
enjoyed the cafe’s luscious
food then happily explored
garden, sandpit, and seesaw.

The eight year old was most upset
at missing this glorious outing,
but Mum eased this suffering
of an eight year old’s heart.

When the others came home
they were met at the back
door by a buoyant young
lady with nails all painted
alternately in sparkling
blue and silver nail polish.

“It Waved At Me !”

Nana’s small juicy tasty apples
organically grown never sprayed
were cut in half put beside
the girls’ afternoon tea on
their special bright plates.

The outgoing confident six
year old enjoyed her food
but spoke hesitantly, didn’t
want her apple ……………….
……. said the worm waved
at her, she couldn’t eat it.

Rearing up from the apple’s
heart the tiny worm waved
its head from side to side.

Mum excused her from
eating her apple.

Brm ! Brm !

Brm brm noises are
genetically predisposed
by the brm brm gene
on the Y chromosome.

Little girls rarely speak
this very strange sound.

Little boys know it
without being taught.

Four wheeled vehicles trigger
brm !  brm ! while being pushed
across the floor. As soon as
he sees one every little boy
knows to say “Brm !  Brm !”

Little brother has no big
brothers to teach him
only big sisters who do not
say “Brm !  Brm !” as they
draw pictures and dance
around in princess dresses.

Yet he still knows to say
“Brm !  Brm !” when pushing
his trucks across the floor.

Traffic

On a brilliant sunny public
holiday the children’s roading
network in the park’s far
corner swarmed with children
and their families under shade
sails, on grass kerbs, around
roads and lights and roundabouts.

Wheels turned on scooters,
tricycles, and bicycles as
adults went alongside or behind
while little legs turned little
wheels navigating intersections
lights and roundabouts.

One or two collisions happened
then someone fell off her bike
on an empty stretch of road.
Her Dad condoled with her on
life’s unfairnesses then she
rapidly rode away again.

Other youngsters rode excitedly
on their way, threading their
way around each other at the
tops of their voices on this
glorious sunny holiday.

English Tutorial

Our childhood memories
experiences set up building
blocks, foundations of our
adulthood whether we accept
or reject them or mindlessly
continue their unconscious paths.

Yet adults often ignore children
forgetful of adult impacts on
young minds, discounting them
from music, art, literature.

My short story for my English
tutorial was abhorrent to my
young reviewing partner for
its theme of adult perceptions
of three children’s situation.

To him a story of childish
experience of an adult
created world could only
be a children’s story.

And children are not
a topic for literature.

Southern Christmas

Christmas snow and storm
clouds fill northern skies like
traditional Christmas card
pictures and decorations.
But we southerners swelter
in light summer clothing in
warm humid breezes and
scorching summer sun.

Heavy roast dinner with
hot Christmas pudding is
too much for our stomachs
in this summer heat.

A little hot food, maybe
barbecue hot roast potatoes
is tolerable eaten with
salad greens,  coleslaw, tomatoes
with other concoctions
of cold crunchy salad.

Christmas pudding is edible
for some if dressed with custard
or sumptuous ice cream
but Christmas essentials are
strawberries and cream
along with fruit salad and
opulent pavlova covered with
cream then thin sliced kiwi fruit
halved strawberries … plus
any other fruit you please.

At Christmas down under
cold food is a joy along
with chilled grape beverages.

Christmas Cards

After student friendships grew
with students coming to my
home city then returning home
for careers, more scattered
friendships built up around
my changing homes and jobs.

Now as we contacted each other
by card and phone at Christmas
the year caught up in the
crises of our later years.

A stroke struck friend who
rang me after her husband’s
death rang again for Christmas.
She couldn’t write cards this year.

Lupus and arthritis limit a
friend who with their daughter
put her husband of fifty years
into care.  She could not keep
him or herself safe. She rang.
She couldn’t write cards this year.

Third onset cancer killed a friend
who only wanted close family nearby.
She couldn’t write cards this year.
Her husband later replied to
cards sent by unknowing friends.

One friend lean and fit always
eating healthy suffered a stroke
at work where they called for help.
She wrote her cards this year.

Christmas Greetings

I crossed names off my
Christmas card list for those
who are no longer with us.
Names scattered round the country.

I wrote “deceased” through
them when I kept returning
to them. Very stark.
I will rewrite my list.

I did send Christmas emails
but many of them replied
with Christmas cards.
So I still have a written list.

Harder to delete my generation
than previous generations.

A friend wanted only close
family around her as she lay
dying of her third cancer onset.
Her husband replied to
her friends’ Christmas
cards three months later.

Two distant elderly relatives
from family history daays
did not reply this time,
were not on googled
death notices.
Are they still alive ?
Or in limbo ?

My Christmas card tradition
has suffered tectonic shifts.