It’s Christmas.
I bake the mince pies. I chop the garlic, roll the pastry, smile, brightly. I buy the presents, write the lists, send the cards, post the parcels, buy the wrapping paper. I beat the eggs, go to the supermarket, make the jokes, tidy the house, check the lights on the tree. I write the lists, chivvy everyone along, polish the glasses, open the champagne, load the dishwasher, clean the silver. I answer the phone; I say “and the same to you!” in a bright voice.
I hide stuff – all over the house. Then I take it up to my bedroom, find the scissors and the paper and the sellotape and I sit on the floor and I stay there until it’s all wrapped and labeled. I wake up before anyone else, and I fill the stockings. Even though they’re fully grown, it all still happens – the mystery, the magic, and it’s me who makes it.
I make the coffee and pour the juice, and I smile and smile and say wait until your brother comes down, and I smile and kiss and hand out coffee and juice and say Merry Christmas and I sit, watching the lights twinkling on the tree, and I’m over-dramatically thrilled and delighted, then I smile some more until my face hurts .
There’s a moment, quite late – they’re putting their coats on and one of them is fiddling with his hair, trying to make it do something – I’m not sure what.
“What will you do?” He sounds worried, suddenly, as if it only just occurred to him, although he’s been doing this – leaving on Christmas morning - since he was ten.
“I’m fine – I have loads of things to do!”
I smile and try to make it sound fine – and it is – because I would absolutely hate them to go, thinking it wasn’t.
I remind them to be ready. I watch the clock, and when it’s time, I hassle them again because it’s such bad manners to keep people waiting.
I wait for the slam of the door, and for a moment I stand still and listen to the silence, which I love at any other time – I love being alone. Then I make myself think about how I have so much – so much more than so many people – I’m really lucky. It’s Christmas.
Comments
Highhat | December 25, 2010 - 18:34
I think this is very touching, especially the ending.
Nice christmas piece Insert- Merry Christmas
;)Pia
Silver Spun Sand | December 25, 2010 - 18:44
So poignantly illustrated - this piece, insert, and sadly, a situation with which many will identify.
Tina
insertponceyfre... | December 25, 2010 - 22:30
thank you Pia and Tina for reading and commenting, I'm glad you enjoyed it
seashore | December 26, 2010 - 09:20
Yes you've captured so well a time and feelings that many would identify with but could not adequately express.
celticman | December 26, 2010 - 11:53
Too Christmasssy for my liking, but Christmas always catches me like that. bah humbug.
insertponceyfre... | December 26, 2010 - 13:27
thank you seashore, and celticman - I'm glad you liked it despite the christmassiness of it
thanks for the cherry!
insertponceyfre... | December 26, 2010 - 19:56
I am glad it's been a pleasure for you blighters. Thank you for reading and commenting
MistakenMagic | December 26, 2010 - 20:09
This is simply inspiring, insert. I am in awe of your strength and courage. Glad you made Christmas magical ;)
Magic xxx
insertponceyfre... | December 26, 2010 - 21:54
thank you magic - I hope you had/are having a wonderful time
Hourhouse | December 26, 2010 - 23:09
Thank you for a touching, poignant story.
I remember my last Christmas with my family, the first after we had split up. My son told his mum afterwards - I don't want dad to spend Christmas with us again, he's too miserable.
I wish I'd had the strength to smile instead...
rjnewlyn | December 26, 2010 - 23:50
Yes, it's many things and it's there and unavoidable whether you view it as humbug or not. And the silence is an important part - but, as you convey so well, often bittersweet. I think we mythologise past years too much though. In a few years time I know I'll be getting dewy-eyed about when the kids were little but at the moment I'm just enjoying the fact that I can get up after 8am ...
Rob
insertponceyfre... | December 27, 2010 - 08:50
Hourhouse, that's such a sad story. I hope you worked it out later - it's always worst at the beginning. Thanks for reading and commenting.
thank you Rob - you are doing very well if you can stay in bed until 8am. I don't think we got there until fairly recently!
nannabot | January 1, 2011 - 22:17
Yes I really enjoyed this. I like how you speed through the opening paragraph, it gives the impression of being very busy and on the move.
from Nannabot. xxx
.
nannabot | January 1, 2011 - 22:36
Strange!! You call yourself Celticman, yet you have no soul if you believe that Christmas is humbug.
I fear the only thing you'll be getting in your stocking this year is, two feet. AAAAHHHHH!!!!!
From Nannabot. xxx
insertponceyfre... | January 2, 2011 - 07:12
thank you nannabot - it's a very busy time of year when you're doing it all!
nannabot | January 3, 2011 - 15:01
Hi, happy new year. I hope this year will be better than all that's gone before.
You are obviously a good writer. How come you are not writing books? xxx