Home This Christmas

I can see the dimming lights aglow
From afar as I trod up the steps to our door,
I ring the bell but I hope I haven’t woken you up.
You open the door and stand there aghast
Looking at my dishevelled state.

You’ve never seen me unkempt and I remember
How much you hated it when I didn’t shave.
I can see it all in your eyes now
Your eyes tell me what I didn’t want to hear,
I hate it myself to bring this on you.

But I’m sorry I just couldn’t stop myself
I’d like to see the kids, I have some explaining to do.
You stand speechless searching for something to say,
“You” is what you finally manage.
I can understand the pain that you’ve been put through.

I stand there as incongruous as those Chinese lights
Glowing in the dawn, we both have so much to say but
Nothing brings the words out, I stand there for a while
Noticing that you still wear your hair the way you did
Five years ago and how captivating you looked.

Even though you had just woken up
I bring out a couple of bags from my briefcase
And pass them on to your trembling hands
There’s a pink dress for Mona and
The latest John Mayer ballads for Robin.

Our moment has passed and I will leave now
There will be no goodbye kisses this time.
As I start trudging back to the freezing street
I wonder whether you’ll tell our kids that
I was home this Christmas.

Damn, it’s cold!

Mohul Bhowmick is a national-level cricketer and passionate writer. He is also pursuing an MBA from Osmania University and has published three books of poetry.

Featured image credit: JL G/Pixabay