The Night Before Christmas

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS:

The tree landed on top of Adaline, softly crushing her and caused her to yelp. She shoved the branches off her chest and clutched the final, tiny golden sphere in her sweaty palm. Her hands glistened with the sparkly remanence of silver and gold baubles and as she inhaled sharply through her nose, the air brought with it a sparkling cluster of glitter and synthetic pine; she sneezed. Haphazardly she brushed her nose with the back of her hand, smearing glitter across her cheek and she tossed the golden bauble into the vast brown Kennards storage box along with the other small baubles. The boxes lay displaced round the house, blocking the light and refusing to cover the room in the heavenly hue of Christmas.

Chaos ruled the roost. Her home, once a comfortable nest now resembled a battlefield. She had left her own carnage around the house, the box flaps of some boxes were forced shut while the sides of others had the indentation wedge from her side kick, a way she’d expelled her demons about the move. She taped down another box, heard the crunch of another trinket that would be forgotten in time and so continued to slap on an A5 label:

“Jones, Small baubles

FROM: 67 Bagnell Beach Rd, Corlette, 2315

TO: 8 Protea Ave, Norman Gardens, 4701”

With her foot, she slid the box aside. It didn’t have far to travel until it slammed into the tower of other pre-packed boxes, clad with slight variations of the same label:

“Jones, Cushions…”

“Jones, DVD’s…”

“Jones, Donations…”

A bead of sweat trickled down her leg from behind her knee. Adaline grabbed a stray t-shirt, her brother’s, and wiped off the sweat before throwing the dirty cloth towards the laundry; it landed in the kitchen. She scoffed and Adaline slumped down into the couch and kicked her feet up onto one of the boxes:

“Jones, Tinsel…”

Instantly her legs stuck to the scorching faux leather of the couch, its well-worn cushions an attribute to its purchase from the Salvo’s Store. She leant forward and slid her phone out from her back-pocket underneath her, wiping the sweat off it on the way. Adaline glanced at the lock screen on her phone only to see an unread message:

“Dad: How’s packing going? I’m on my way home now…”

Not bothered to reply to the text she threw her phone across the couch; it skimmed the surface and then flipped onto the floor, landing in the corner of the room. She ran to the phone and noticed that the white tiles exuded an orange glow as the blaring sun hit them through the glass sliding door.

Immediately she was reminded of “THE GROUND’S LAVA!” a game she played as a 6 year old at her parents office at, “Salvation Army Divisional Headquarters” while they were busy.  She recalled balancing on the library’s couch surrounded by cushions and pretending the ground beneath her was molten lava. Jacob, then 4 would run across the floor and dive onto the couch yelling, “MY FEET ARE ON FIRE!” She’d help him up then laugh and struggle as they wrestled each other to the floor. She hadn’t realised her parents missing then.

She leant over to grab the phone and then spotted the ripples on pool in the backyard. She hadn’t decided it was time to move. Those decisions were never left to her. She recalled summer days having her arms tightly around her dad’s neck and her little legs around his waist as they stood on the edge of the springboard, her mum, brother and cousins watching in anticipation. Her dad would grab her legs, locking them in place as Adaline whispered from behind him, “Okay, let’s jump now, daddy”. They’d leap off the roof together and into the deep blue pool, splashing the others faces, water dripping from noses and curled smiles.

Adaline lifted her phone and replied to her dad’s message glimpsing his consolation text left with no reply from the night before, “I’m sorry, we’re almost done and then we can get a frozen coke on the way home, I promise! 11:47pm”; sent from across the room as she sat, cross legged on the polished concrete floor mindlessly fiddling with an unused stuffed rabbit while her parents continued to pack Christmas hampers for the welfare clients. It just felt so unfair. From where she sat in the corner her eyes rolled as she observed the corps slogan stencilled onto the wall, “Serve God by Serving others”.

She bit her tongue, regretting the selfish privilege that had consumed her mind as she stepped around a haphazard pile of precisely wrapped and ribboned boxes. On top of the pile sat two, identical presents sent, “With Love, From Mal and Ail”. They were an older couple from Noosa who worked alongside Adaline’s parents at the first church her parents were ever stationed. Despite being moved to Port Stephens after only two years in Noosa, the old couple never forgot to send birthday and Christmas presents for them every year. Amongst the pile was a card, a reminder of the couple from their 3^rd appointment who had adopted Adaline and Jacob as their own grandchildren since they were so far away from their real grandparents, and who were kind enough to introduce themselves as Mama Joy and Grandad Robert.

Adaline felt a slight smile crept across her face. With one of the lighter boxes wrapped in her arms and another tower of two behind her back, Adaline walked backwards towards the now bare back wall of the living room. She placed the box at the top of the tower of two and continued to repeat this routine until all the boxes were stacked against the wall like perfectly placed Lego; the chaos forgotten in place of order as if no man’s land had finally been cleared.  Through the window, the sun set and cast warm orange and pink across the sky, ushering stars and the moon’s illuminating face. The first star’s luminous glow stood out from the rest as it gleamed through the window; the light searched the boxes and the bare room for something to refract off when finally, it found her. Adaline’s hands glistened with the glittery remanence of silver and gold baubles, reflecting the light and covering the room in the heavenly hue she had missed so much.