An X-Mess Carol

"An X-Mess Carol" Somewhere standing barefoot in the sand, she thought with guilty pleasure “This is the KORO SEA!” and conjured up a multitude of story scenarios Buccaneers, Pirates Parlay, Treasure Maps, Davy Jones Locker, Jack Sparrow, Ho’es you know, those childhood things and for a short hit, guilty pleasure then the tide dragged the sand out hard from underneath her feet, she was sinking. 3 Christmases had gone by. 2 missed. The moon was pulling the tide extra hard She felt she was being dragged feet first out to sea Magnetic, gravity “SHE” was calling her in again. The Kid missed her, Though she would never admit it. The Kid didn’t need to hear “SHE”, she could feel her, that’s called Empathy. The Kid understood what was so very wrong, this time what was amiss Too late now though to turn around. The Kid had backed herself into a corner between a rock and a hard place with a spiteful, alienating lobbyist. Quietly she said under her breath, “This isn’t Christmas”. Polarized. Staring way out to the horizon, she thought, “This is not an escape - “THIS IS POLITICS”. “Politics can be a dirty business.” The Kid heard SHE’s voice speak to her arriving on the breeze. The Kid recalled talks about Paris, “…..won’t that be great!” “SHE” had said, looking over her shoulder at the Kid, as she grated lemon rind,then beat the Double Thick Cream, Lemoncello Vanilla Bean Paste, Mascarpone for the Christmas Trifle in the Kitchen Whizz, test taste. Place Cointreau soaked Savoardi in a fine crystal bowl, pour over the mix, repeat 3 times add passionfruit pulp, sliced bananas, slivered almonds, fresh raspberries. “After graduation. You and me Kid. Paris it is!!” All the effort with the Xmas Lunch, Ham and Turkey, a special brunch. Money scarce, but nothing spared, her kid was HOME - that’s all that she cared. Although it was only the two of them what the Kid didn’t see back then, was not just that “SHE” always catered for the Kid’s every whim…. ”SHE” was the only one who had listened intently to all her fabulous stories the character keys, the maps that the kid was drawing the delivery of her precis, this, the shared commonality - and when “SHE” asked for a repeat, it wasn’t that she wasn’t listening she was keenly taking THE FULL PLOT back in again. “It’s not important what’s under the tree, what matters most is who’s around it, see?” This is what is important at Christmas. “HOME”. The Kid was now taking the full plot in… (Lovejoy-Burton/2017 Dec)