Good evening or should I say morning as it’s almost one in the morning here. A great day with my lovely friend, another missed parcel because our delivery man didn’t bother to knock/ring the door bell and a late visit from our neighbour who popped in with gifts, so a chat and exchange of presents and a very late visit from Shamrock almost midnight when she came.
Now the night is old and the day is new, I have just had a stunning email from one of my dearest Bloggets. Oh, she has the most amazing words to write and she spoke of Christmas past. Her words are full of wisdom and colour.
As a child, I loved Christmas. Our house was full of colour. The lights on the tree every year used to break and Mum would fix them with new bulbs and we were Okay to go again. Tiny tin toys would sparkle and the old glass baubles would shatter but still we would give them another year, sharp baubles would hang from the tree part of Santa’s hat would be missing, my Mum had a beautiful house, nothing in her house was cheap, but Christmas? Only the tree, was full of character for sure!
Leading up to Christmas, I had excitement filling my stomach and over spilling through my body. There was simply no room left for any more excitement. I was fearful that Santa would have been tuned in the day in the summer I was naughty, what if he wouldn’t come to me because of that day? What if he came and left me what he sometimes left the naughty boys and girls, a bit of coal? Oh, I would pray that he would forgive me or pray that he hadn’t seen me on that day. All sorts of things would go through my mind.
It was the night before Christmas day. My chocolate on my advent calendar was more delicious than ever. and my stocking would be hung by the fireside. I would pour the glass of Sherry for Santa, ever so carefully. The mince pie would be put on the plate with such love. The great man himself would be in my kitchen soon. A bath and bed. An early night. I couldn’t sleep, but if I didn’t and Santa would fly on his sleigh by my house, see in his magic glass I was still awake, he would fly by. What to do?
My dreams were plenty and my sleep became deep because of pure exhaustion of the build up.
The next day my big brother who is seven years my senior would tap me on my shoulder. Time to get up. But, what if we interrupted Santa? My brother would reassure me that he has had a look and he thinks that Santa has been. Was there anything? He thought so…
Outside the navy night looked extra cold because of all the snow that Santa must have brought over with him on his sleigh.
The moon was brighter and the air was thin. As I tipped towed down the stairs, hearing the crackle of the coal fire, I would open the living room door with my brother who would totally make sure my day was perfect.
Lights on, to brighten the room as the orange glow from the fire wasn’t enough.
Wow, the colours were bigger brighter and more beautiful than the year before.
There wasn’t a spare space where I could see the floor or anywhere to sit. Huge parcels, long ones and tiny parcels. Gifts so big I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to open them? How kind Santa had been. This was a little girls dream. My parents had made my dreams come true and I was forever grateful and will be always. My brother would put the batteries in help me to build whatever and be the energy I needed, as having old parents. I loved my Mum and Dad, they were not rich, far from it but gave everything to me and I wanted for nothing as far as material things, love as well. The tragedy was, I had to wake up from my dream and head to boarding school to live the opposite life again. Opposite from love comfort and colours. From one extreme to the other. I had such a privileged life at home, but as the years grew, so did depression not only from me but my poor Mum who suffered badly, sadly it took until about ten years after she died before I realised just how bad her life really was. My parents gave their all to me and my brother, but never got thanks when they were alive. I hope now they are in heaven, or where ever their world is now, they know how much I loved them and love them and how much they influenced my life. Memories, memories from my past which lead roads to my future, as our past is the roots to our future which is the branches we help to cultivate which give us the fruits we need for life.
My words to you now are memories of the past each word you have just read is now your past. But we have a future and I’m privileged to have you all in it. Thank you all for being part of my life. Merry Christmas.
No comments:
Post a Comment