~ DAY 7: Fairytale of New York ~

~ A Christmas Flash Fiction ~

It’s Christmas Eve and I’m booking a ticket back to Ireland. I’ve had enough!

We all come for the dream, the American dream.

Banded together, we crossed the Atlantic sea. Braving the bitter cold, the hustle, the bustle, the noise, the smell.

Home.

The cars are like… home. Ordinary. Not big as bars. The streets aren’t paved with gold. Just rats, scuttling into drains.

Broadway wasn’t waiting for anyone. Least of all me. In fact, Broadway couldn’t give a shite.

I drop a penny into an old man’s hat, just outside an Irish bar. “Won’t see another one.” He mutters, nodding his head in thanks.

This year’s not for me. Or him. It’ll be Christmas Day soon. The NYPD choir sing Galway Bay and I’m feeling that pinch of homesickness in my heart.

But I was home. My ancestors, my countrymen sailed across the sea, much like myself. They didn’t turn back when they discovered the streets were grey. They didn’t moan at the cold or groan at the noise. They kept their heads up and ploughed on. For their families back home.

This city doesn’t owe me anything.

The bells ring out.

I’m no longer Queen of Dublin city but Queen of New York city.

© By Christina Alagaratnam

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