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Published December 02, 2013 More Info »
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Christmas On A Bus ©
By Michael Casey
On a bus coming home the Christmas Story revealed itself to me, ordinary events on a cold Winter’s evening.
There was a large man squeezed into a seat sitting crossways as he was so large, I squeezed in next to him, the two of us like boulders abandoned.
A small African child was singing a carol to her mum who was weighed down by worry and a carrier bag larger than the child, behind a bigger child was swinging her feet off the seat.
In front of me a child with a large bright pretty ribbon in her hair was talking excitedly to her nan. Her nan was all wrapped up against the Winter weather, she was more like a parcel than a person She was giving sage advice to her granddaughter, don’t expect too much this Christmas.
There was a pretty teenaged too, she was moving her ankle in her new clean boots, perhaps Christmas boots, she was speaking confidently to her ugly friend, pretty girls always have either a fat or ugly best friend, its Nature’s balance.
The African family got up it was their stop at the bus stop, I told the child to hold on tight to the rail as she moved forward only she was too small to understand fully. My children are about their age I said to the child with the ribbon in her hair and her nan.
The large man squeezed in next to me started doing sign language to me, it was only then that I realised he was deaf and dumb. So I signed back to him. A few stops further on the dumb man as big as Gabriel himself got up as it was his stop, we exchanged goodbyes, “Good Luck” I said, he got off and waved goodbye from the street.
I heard a voice on a mobile, “we’ve got to go then or the graveyard will be shut, I want to give mum some flowers for Christmas.”
All this represents Christmas, your Christmas, My Christmas, Everybody’s Christmas. So take time out to speak to the deaf, to share a smile, to remember your mum, for Christ is Born.
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Published December 02, 2013

 

Christmas On A  Bus ©

    By            Michael Casey

 On a bus coming home the Christmas Story revealed itself to me, ordinary events on a cold  Winter’s evening.

 There was a large man squeezed into a seat sitting crossways as he was so large, I squeezed in next to him, the two of us like boulders abandoned.

 A small African child was singing a carol to her mum who was weighed down by worry and a carrier bag  larger than  the child, behind a bigger child was swinging her feet off the seat.

 In front of me a child with  a large bright pretty ribbon in her hair was talking excitedly to her nan. Her nan was all wrapped up against the Winter weather, she was more like a parcel than a person She was giving sage advice to her granddaughter, don’t expect too much this Christmas.

 There was a pretty teenaged too, she was  moving her ankle in her new clean boots, perhaps Christmas boots, she was speaking confidently to her ugly friend, pretty girls always have either a fat or ugly best friend, its Nature’s balance.

 The African family got up it was their stop at the bus stop, I told the child to hold on tight to the rail as she moved forward only she was too small to understand fully.  My children are about their age I said to the child with the ribbon in her hair and her nan.

The large man squeezed in next to me started doing sign language to me, it was only then that I realised he was deaf and dumb. So I signed back to him. A few stops further on the dumb man as big as Gabriel himself got up as it was his stop, we exchanged goodbyes, “Good Luck” I said, he got off and waved goodbye from the street.

 I heard a voice on a mobile, “we’ve got to go then or the graveyard will be shut, I want to give mum some flowers for Christmas.”

All this represents Christmas,your Christmas, My Christmas, Everybody’s Christmas. So take time out to speak  to the deaf, to share a smile, to remember your mum, for Christ is Born.

 

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