We waited, then watched as St Micheál finally delivered
ALL our adults, in houses around the country, have been fretting and waiting in excitement and trepidation for weeks.
They told eagerly each other what they wanted, with some children managing to listen in, hoping to pick up the odd clue.
Many of those bright-eyed grown-ups had even written out their wish lists – sometimes pausing to think how they could possibly push the envelope – and then posted them off, in trusting, wistful hope.
And those special sectoral pleadings, blizzards of them, had triumphantly gotten through to the North Road of Government Buildings, where they were all carefully examined by legions of civil servants, Micheál’s little helpers.
Some children would have been wise to tell their adults not to ask for too much, fearing the pain of inevitable disappointment for some. And yet, bless ’em, hundreds of thousands of them pressed their noses close to glass of the television as the six o’clock Angelus tolled portentously. Those bells, while nerves jangled.
What would he bring? The News. It was agony watching the open sequences before the real news. Caitríona Perry appeared in a bright yellow dress. She said some words that went right over the adults’ heads.
They were focused on the stairs in a live shot behind her, leading down from upper Government and, yes, above that the roof itself.
There was a little helper with a mask standing in view beside the rostrum with the double microphones, doing something elvishly important in his own way.
Caitríona was interviewing someone important – probably rude-health George Lee, the dread-news reporter.
But none of the tall darlings in living rooms all around the country were looking at either Rude-health or Caitríona. All were focused on that little slice of Live over her shoulder. Gasp! Was it…?
Yes!
He came!
Saint Micheál himself. He didn’t much look like the pictures on the side of sweetie box, but he was acting the big man and he was wearing his red tie. So there.
Never mind that, what was he doing to deliver?
He spoke in a kindly voice, initially emphasising matters of the religious importance.
Pope Francis in a recent reflection, and something “the saints next door… antibodies to the virus of indifference”.
Yeah, yeah, get on with it.
Never mind next door, what have you got for us? We’re watching you in this house, dude!
Finally he unpacked his bag of tricks… a wonderful and colourful catalogue, with a ‘respite’ here and a ‘relaxation’ there.
As everything was unwrapped the adults beamed with innocent pleasure. We almost forgot we didn’t get the wet pubs we wanted.
We bit our lips hard and hoped not to cry. But deep down we knew Micheál’s Nphet elves couldn’t give every adult everything they wanted. It would be still be magical. Look at our pretty new Level 3, when many adults couldn’t remember when they last had one.
There were modifications of course.
What modification did you get? We’d always knew there’d be a family clause family at the very heart of it all.
But he also promised us a special New Year present, with a vaccine for everybody that would be “fast, comprehensive and fair”, although he didn’t say free. He was instead on to Roald Dahl, but the adults weren’t interested in that.
So uninterested we missed his sudden disappearance – and that, as they say, is a wrap.