COVID Christmas

You remember that Covid Christmas don’t you, the one where you tried staying in bed all day asleep, until that knock on the door you were expecting. Rolling out of bed, with a quick stare into the mirror to make sure you didn’t look too sad, or dishevelled.

Walking down the stairs slowly you forced a smile onto your face and took a deep breath before opening the door. You knew who was there and why, you just had to pluck some inner Christmas spirit up to match the visitors. You took a deep breath before opening the door.

There she was, your mother standing in the frosty air, with the slight dribble of snow between flakes and water hanging off her hat. A forced smile you suspected hung on those flaky lips, and despite her concealment, you just knew that underneath that warm coat she wore, were Christmas clothes she would have bought specifically for this day. Not for sharing with you of course.

“Come inside, Mum” you said, forcing a smile onto your face and hiding your inner seething of jealousy and annoyance. If you were going to miss Christmas due to the Governments bollocks, COIVD laws, tier one, two, and three, all designed you suspected just to fuck your own  Christmas up, then why couldn’t she have just left you in bed.

No, no. It was a forced celebration being thrust onto your shoulders that you had to enjoy despite knowing inside that there was no enjoyment to be had. You would have been happier to stay in bed all day watching Bad Santa One and Two, drifting off to sleep in between more pills and drink, anything that would make this day pass as quickly as possible. Constantly waking up, only to see the TV frozen on the credits sequence and then rewinding the TV back to the point in the film you could last remember watching.

Nope, if she and the rest of your family were at their home celebrating Christmas then you had to as well, even if you didn’t want to as the idea of celebrating alone was so absurd that this act of contrition by your mother had to be accepted and welcomed and of course thanked. 

For it was she, who was making a day that you would rather forget, into one that you would celebrate alone, and for making your shit day just a little bit more shitter you would smile. However only on the outside of course, so it was smiles, false platitudes and pretend excitement that she had bothered to come round. To be honest she didn't have to, and I guess for that you would put on an extra layer of happiness, would it really have been better to spend all day in bed not seeing a single soul?

“You don’t have to wear a mask Mum”, you said, looking at her with her face nappy awkwardly hanging off one side of her nose and not completely covering her up.

“Yes, I do, it’s the law”, she replied, oh yes of course it was. The law? Is that why you are breaking it by allowing your sister to break every COVID rule possible, but you had to obey the stupid rules that you knew most people were breaking?

Hypocrisy and pretend fealty to Government, you just had to laugh inside at the absurdity of it all as you walked back up the stairs, your mum behind, carrying what would be by now, a cold Turkey Christmas dinner.

“You just need to microwave it for 2 mins,” She said plopping the foil-wrapped leftovers of what you could imagine was a fine dinner back at her place.

“Of course, I will Mum”, you said staring at the plate. Wondering how cold it really was and if would it even taste any good being heated up or not.

“I can’t stay, someone might spot me” mother said as if anyone on the estate was bothering to watch what was going on behind other people's front doors, notepad and pen ready to jot notes down, ready to send a list of COVID violations off to the Government.

Then within a flash, she said “Happy Christmas”, putting her hand to her mouth and blowing out pretend kisses, not daring a real one in case she caught the deadly fruit bug from me. Then she turned around and walked away. "I have to get back, Eastenders is on in 20 minutes, enjoy your dinner! Love you", she said loudly as if that was such a good explanation of why she couldn't stay with you a bit longer now that you were out of bed.

What a crappy Christmas you thought as you plopped the cold dinner into your Microwave and turned the big TV on. Opening a can of K cider you sat down to enjoy a Christmas meal on your own.

What a ball ache you thought as you listened to the Microwave spin around, with the small bumps as the wheel hit the side as it always did. What a great way to interrupt your day in bed as you flicked the TV onto some porn. Well at least they won’t be watching this back at your parents you thought to yourself, it would be Eastenders times two, and then the Microwave beeped to tell you it had finished cooking.

Christmas, ho fucking ho!

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