'Early Decembers Circa Late Nineties'

Dusty boxes reluctantly surrender their contents from hibernation - it is the same everywhere this time of year. I sneeze thrice from shifting the decorations out into the open: yet again I have disturbed a resting blanket of particles - their peppery-likeness when inhaled is as good as any act of wrath (from inanimate objects).

Year after year - with my growing hands, I would steady the steel ladder as mother stood precariously above on the rickety thing (it was dented in parts from my mis-handling, as on occasion I would inadvertently re-enact the classical black-and-white-comedy scene where one goes through a doorway carrying a ladder horizontally; No - that didn't really happen - as disappointing as it is: I was never clumsily destructive), to bring the 'fake plastic tree' down from the high wall-cupboard into the living room. It shed like a shaggy dog sometimes. And I would be the one sweeping up its fake fibrous leaves, again and again.

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