Something about Christmas that doesn’t want money

It’s one of those nights where I am well beyond tired, but because of an interruption, find myself wide awake. I thought about Christmas and , in this digital era, how many people stil send Christmas cards. I love getting Christmas cards – the bright biblical scenes in deep blues, the incongruous pictures of gum trees or bowls of fruit. At least they cared, right?

I received a card from an ex-neighbour once and unlike the gaudy or inappropriate, touched me:


Card from Vini

Vini sent a card for Christmas;

Well, Tina sent it, I’d say

And wrote it,

But they were Vini’s words.

Since they’d moved to QLD

We hadn’t heard,

Then the card in

Samoan English which

Said much more than Merry


He said that we were lovely and

That they missed us.


All we’d done

Was share his beers,

His barbecue and be kind

When kindness

Was in short supply.

It’s what you’re supposed to do

As friends but I think that

Maybe they’d lost their way

And so a bit of love made us

The best neighbours

They’d ever had;

That’s what he called us.


I filled up with that.

It’s pretty sad that when

The real stuff is light on the ground

What you find

Becomes a treasure forever.

I have plenty; I should give

More away.