Dreaming of a White Christmas...

Icy breaths that flood the fine filagrees of my red veins blue; chest aflame from the stale lung-air of cold cadavers just out of the icebox. Oversized hands in too-small mittens that fray at the edges, pink skin scrambling to inch beneath the woolly warmth of coffee-stained palms.

A reindeer nose pressed to the wet pane of big city views; and white origami roofs that light up the constructed yellow night of a snow-swept metropolis trying to close it's eyes on the world. A fire that crackles in the grate like a stock whip; bed hair; white sheet togas that bandage around limbs imprisoned by limbs; a flesh knot held together by a common love for all things merry, bright and giving.

A gift-wrapped heart sits in wait at the foot of a towering pine dressed in his crystal best, while bejeweled emerald fingers stretch away from a five-point chapeau that dances with the brilliant reflection of firelight.

It keeps out my cold.

But then again, so does winter.

Adeste fideles

I twirl the ornament on my left index finger, watching the red glitter catch the light.
If I close my eyes I can even smell Christmas- mangoes, a slight dusty smell of cardboard and tinsel and that something else- that magic something that clings to Christmas and makes you feel warm and tingly.

Or maybe that's just the oppressive heat of an Australian Summer?

Whatever it is- I adore Christmas. The decorations, the carols, the lights on houses, the shopping, the wrapping, the cards, the countdown, the brandy cream, the Christmas teevee specials, the creepy old santa dude's in shopping centres who wave and offer practiced joy and merriment. I love it all.

I like spending Christmas eve in a fit of anticipation, I like being woken at dawn to see the presents and the tree in lovely half light, I like the wrapping paper that litters the living room floor, I like christmas lunch and the too-much food, I like the feeling of being completely stuffed and sleepy, I like having the family around- messing with the gifts, laughing about nothing really.

Christmas is fast approaching and I can already tell I'm going to miss it once it's gone- but years are passing by so quickly, it'll be here again in all it's gift-wrapped, commercialised glory.

I can't wait.