Santa Mummy

I observe you making your way to the Christmas tree, your eyes shining with anticipation. I see the twinge of disappointment in there when you look around looking for more gifts bearing your name but can’t find any more. I cannot help feeling that I have somehow failed you. Maybe you expected to see a number of things that, for you, would translate into my love for you.

Maybe you are worried about what you will tell your friends when you go back to school and that your haul may pale in comparison to theirs. Believe it or not, I know. I know so very well how that feels, for having been there myself. Your mind is racing, but the first thing that you cannot help but feel is that I love you less. You think that I care more for other things that are inconsequential for you right now, but which I know will make sense for you later.

How do I begin to explain to you that there are not enough things in this world that will come up to measure how much I love you? As you turn around and look at me, your smile somehow does not reach your eyes, but you still hug me tight, for this is you telling me that it’s okay, that you love me despite your disappointment, as you are yet to be able to form these feelings into words.

That would take some more years, and in time, the reason for what you have just felt will dawn on you, when you will be in my shoes. For now, I take that hug, I take it with all my soul. I wrap that feeling of you pressed tight against me, preciously. I keep it safe and I will open it every time I need it over the years to come.