Spotlight

I've recently had the awkward pleasure of watching my daughter unwrap her birthday presents via the magic of a Facebook portal. It's really like having her in the room with us,  even though she is hundreds of miles away.  It reminded me of how she hates being watched while she opens her presents.  This is another one for you, Jen.  


My daughter isn't good at accepting compliments:
She demurs,  confused,  embarrassed at being praised
Brushing them off quickly,  wishing only to step out of the limelight.
It's the same story with opening presents:
She hesitates, prevaricates, distracts the giver with aimless chat,
Wanting the surprise to be over, normality to resume. 

I could blame my parents, who every Christmas,
Would sit us in a circle in their front room
Making each of us open our presents in turn
While everyone's eyes were on us,  waiting for the response:
Did we like it,  were we happy, was it a good choice? 
We were the star of the show for those few minutes
Before the spotlight moved on to the next in line. 
We became experts, conjuring gratitude 
Even in the face of disappointment.
We mustn't fluff our lines, for fear of offending
The well meaning, far from well-off givers.  
I should have put a stop to it
When it was our turn to host the Christmas parties, 
But by then it was part of our tradition.  

© Copyright 2021. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Leave taking

I've been to two funerals recently. I suppose it's inevitable that their frequency will increase as I get older,  and my peer group ages alongside me.  It makes you consider your own mortality, and prompts a resolve to use the days left to you more wisely.  But somehow you never do, preferring to think there's still enough time left.   The death of an elderly uncle is easier to bear. It's possible to reflect on a long life, well lived,  To remember the fun you had when you were small, How he made you shriek until you were breathless,  To consider the grace of his faith, which eased his end.  The death of my sunny, fun-filled friend Is much harder to balance. We are all too aware She had too few years to enjoy her joyful take on life,  Will miss out on too many evenings full of laughter,  No longer guide her grandchildren into adulthood. Both deaths celebrated as a release from pain.  Both lives celebrated as lives lived well.  We carry their memories home with us,   To
Read more

Kindness

Day 25: '  write a poem based on the “ Proust Questionnaire ,” a set of questions drawn from Victorian-era parlor games, and  adapted by modern interviewers . You could choose to answer the whole questionnaire, and then write a poem based on your answers, answer just a few, or just write a poem that’s based on the questions. You could even write a poem in the form of an entirely new Proust Questionnaire.' Typically I read the prompt in a rush before going swimming, seized on the word 'virtue' and composed something while in the pool.  It was only when I got back home that I realised the question was about the most overrated virtue.  Too late, I've written instead about the most underrated virtue: kindness.  It's hidden in the little things That brighten up each day. It's in the chores done without prompting,  The coins you save for my after-swim hairdryer,  The morning coffee brewed with a smile , The blanket shared on chilly evenings. It's in the well
Read more

Dont go to India

I wrote this after a toilet stop in the way from Jaipur to Varaneeshya.  Don't go to India  not if you worry about squatting over a hole in the ground, with no running water. not if you worry about hawkers thrusting their wares in your face, "300, 200, 100 only". not if you worry about children caked in street filth, tugging at your sleeve, your heart. not if you worry about rubbish, plastic bottles, bags, packaging, strewn across the streets. But if you can make peace with all that  you will find beauty wherever you look. ©  Copyright 2023. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved
Read more