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Zu Zu's petals.

Christmas day and the small council lounge room was bursting with tinsel and decorations. A great big bloody tree covered in bobbles and fake white snow amongst a settee two armchairs a dining table. Two adults and three boys all sweating with the central heating on a cool 24 degrees centigrade - bliss. There was such a festive feeling with much light heartedness as we sat and dined. Mother had out done herself again with another fine roasting of poultry and meat with a good stock of vegetables to fill any stomach.
We sat across from each other and ripped into the crackers. Each of us tried to secure that thin tag that would detonate our explosive device. Each premature tug the other made on the opposite end ultimately destroyed the thin paper bomb. Till Mother showed by example as father looked on; he would take special attention to my youngest brother who had a curious fascination for pyrotechnics. With crepe for hats and pets waiting for scraps it was time to eat. The food disappeared and our bellies grew till the time came to sit down and relax watching some TV.
I wonder today if we are creating moments that will be remembered and for the right reasons as well. My Father said to me once, "we no longer make movies that are classic!" And in part I think he is right. When James Cameron spent $300million to make Titanic - it created a new Classic. My Father, he holds onto that nostalgic idea, "things" where better "then" and I appreciate then and now; more importantly tomorrow. I did a job yesterday and the client asked me for a 50-year guarantee, I gave him 12 months. Because our care factor is so low it has (I hope) bottomed and we shall see a return to work that will endure that people will say, "Good job" in a manner of pride and respect. As I muse I can see our history forming its history and not uncommon when we step back in fifty years we shall say "that was classic". As I sit and watch on the TV 'It's a Wonderful life' I have deflated and have now room for dessert.
My father was trained as a baker and my mother certainly put together some rich cakes and savory sweets. Christmas would not be the day it has become without making room for trifle. Cream atop of Swiss roll soaked in pears and peach slices with custard may not be a typical traditional recipe however alcohol was rarely used or consumed in my parent's home. As I sat comfortably in the settee my mother gave me a bowl with a spoon hanging over the edge, "there's mur if ya want it." A friendly gesture loud enough for everyone to hear it was ok to have two serves, not an acquisition you might be greedy but perhaps an admission from my mother that her serves of dessert wear notoriously known for being miniscule, or was she ahead of her time?
As Jimmy Stewart stumbles through the thick, white snow and races around town with the world on his shoulders I finish my trifle. Jimmy crashes through his front door, then as he spins around he calls out for his family whom he had just torn strips off. Into the house spills his wife with the town behind her and each one by one recants a human story. It's monumental and as Zu Zu signs off across the TV screen we read the news flash Charles Chaplin dies at home.
Everything came home that day, birth then life and death in a moment. The pointlessness of life if you don't live it! The struggles and the desperation you go through to appreciate the richness of life if you are able to live through it. Its irony and its life; it's everything. Its classic stuff; It's the constitution and it's Mabo!

Zu Zu's petals by Eduardo Francesco from theadventuresoflanceandricco

Renamed - The Candlemaker 2017. First published 25th February 2014.

I look forward to any comments or feedback. Scotty (+61)410016147 Perth Western Australia.