Ruth Writes

Presents wrapped. Cards written. House decorated. Food shop finished. Turkey collected. Vegetables prepped. House cleaned. She goes through the Christmas checklist in her head, staring into space as she leans on the counter. She feels like she’s forgetting something. She’s definitely forgetting something, but her brain has turned to mush. She goes through her list again and nothing new springs up. What is that one thing she’s forgetting?

She absent-mindedly starts wiping the counters as she listens to her family pottering around the house getting ready for the busy days of eating, drinking and opening presents ahead. She then busies herself with moving around the downstairs of the house, switching on the indoor, outdoor and Christmas tree lights.

She finishes up in the living room, the virtual fireplace crackling on the television alongside the soft crooning of Michael Bubbles from the speaker. She catches her reflection in the mirror and sighs defeatedly. She looks so tired. Her skin is dry and pale, and she has bags the size of Santa’s sacks under her eyes. She’s in dire need of a good shower and a full eight hours. Her body feels too heavy, and she feels sleepy and lethargic, like if she closes her eyes she might just pass out.

Thunderous footsteps running down the stairs snap her out of her trance as three little humans come screaming into the living room. She turns and slaps a smile onto her face that she doesn’t have to force for long. She puts her arms out and her three little ones collide with her, knocking her off her feet. They all laugh and as she sits up, one hides behind her and the other two clamber into her lap, tucking their faces either side of her neck.

Her husband follows them in dressed as the Grinch and she nearly cries with laughter. The children screech as he creeps in and tries to get to the presents resting under the tree. She squeezes them close and shouts at her husband, the Grinch, that he cannot have their presents. Her Grinch holds his chest like she’s wounded him and the children, now confident in her presence, start shouting at him too. He runs back out of the room and the children celebrate.

She stands awkwardly with two kids holding her with their arms and legs like monkeys. The eldest, behind her, hugs her leg until their dad returns. He walks into the room to a chorus of explanations about the Grinch he just missed. He acts shocked and so proud that they scared him off. He picks their eldest up and wraps another arm around her. They sway and sing altogether along with Michael about Santa Claus coming to town. Their children’s excitement buzzes tangibly in the air around them. They hop out of their parents’ arms and start dancing manically around the living room. She stands in her husband’s arms, watching her children dance and remembers the last thing on her list: family happy.