It's almost mid-day and I am stuck in the house. If you had asked me in January, where I would celebrate Christmas, I'd have pointed to the beautiful park some distance away from my house.

That was our usual practice. Sim and I. We often went to the park together as early as possible. Just before the throng of fun-seekers, a motley of kids and adults descend on the usually serene piece of greenery.

Today is different, just as it has been for a large part of this unfortunate year. Coronavirus was not just in the newspaper and television headlines, it was present in my home. Two weeks already seemed like an eternity each time I remember how much has changed since Sim got sick. It has been a huge burden taking care of him.

His belaboured breath often breaks beyond the sheltered surrounding of the corner he occupied in our bedsit. Every now and then, I had to go ask if he needed anything. The turgid smell of garlic, lime and tumeric hung in the air.

He was supposed to be getting better, especially after he was sent away from the overcrowded isolation centre. His case was deemed not deadly and without a home care assistant, I played this role, very much like a dutiful partner.

Now, I sit staring at the walls of the apartment. I yearned for those cheery voices once again. Those voices which in normal times were both a delight and a nuisance to the ear. I sat thinking of what I would do with Christmas as a lone person.

"What was Christmas without the occasion?"

A yearly event eagerly shared with a crowd of revellers and party-goers.

Sim's voice broke through the bubble. His words were not bold enough and I stood up to meet him. He wanted the radio on.

"Where was the radio?"

I knew nothing about that piece of item and I got my phone instead. I turned on the FM radio in my phone. The Christmas anthem "Joy to the world" broke the silence of the room and I sat back to enjoy the boisterous feel of the tune.

Now, I could imagine what joy Mary could have felt after she had birthed Jesus. May be, my cluttered space could be comparable to the baby Jesus being born in a sheep house and kept in their feedbox. I probably was playing out the vision of the better times that felt less like it. Those times when we were sure of not contracting a disease through random handshakes with stranger.

Those days when putting on a mask was the preserve of medical workers. Now it seemed like a necessary accessory. Sim was more than a reminder of the deadly effect of Covid. He seemed a potent symbol of this disease that has turned the world upside down.

Then I thought of Mary and her travelling with a paranormal baby in her womb. She knew little of the fact that the baby she would birth was going to introduce a new way of life to the world. May be Jesus had to be born in an abnormal place to ensure his safety from the inquisitive eyes and voices of patients and nurses.

Sim was singing. Hoarse, unclear but a good feeling seemed to well inside me. Another Christmas tune was playing in the radio. I have not been listening and now I am caught up in a state that I never imagined. May be I am happy after all even though we live in abnormal times.

Now I realized the fact that Christmas is what we make of it.

Ok

Abnormal times indeed
May God help us all. Nice story, sir

Ciara9251:
Abnormal times indeed May God help us all. Nice story, sir

you are welcome