Today was our first snow of the season. As it fell it weaved its wondrous magic through our garden. It is truly a white winter wonderland all around. Christmas is almost upon us once more in all its glory as my mind goes back in time. Way, way back.
Christmas. A reminder for me of so many different moment in my life-dear, precious moments that I guard and protect fiercely within my heart forever. My mind is filled with moments from various Christmases of years gone by- they are all are like snap shots, tiny fragments of my life that seem to jump out and the whole experience of the moment is re-lived once more. If it was not for this time of the year I probably would never recollect or remember these special moments, thus thankfulness pours out of my heart.
This time used to have such exciting happy expectations for me. Now as the years wind down, like with birthdays, this time just seems to conjure up contradictory memories filled with happiness and sadness all at the same time, as so many of my loved ones are no longer with us. We are all tied together with this silver thread and as it thins out through the passing of time as we lose those we love. It pains me deeply wounding my very soul as life seems to go on uninterrupted regardless of my pain-so it seems. I am merely less than an atom of reality-thus I matter not or do I in the scheme of things ? I wonder.
Christmas-oh…such a magical glorious time. Memories of sounds, fragrances and shiny decorations from my childhood come flooding back from times gone by as I was growing up in South Africa. Vivid memories of trimming the tree. Christmas Eve with my grandparents -never was a Christmas without them. The evening was sparkling with splendour and the lingering fragrance of the fresh pine as it filled the entire house. It was always a living tree in a pot , which was later transplanted into our garden, often tinsel sparkling on them for months on end until the elements got their glory.
They though eventually did grow up to be splendid- tall and strong specimens of their kin. There was always much compassion and love towards those cut Christmas trees, - bound up tightly with string and awaiting to find a temporary home, end of their short life within sight. So we never ever had a cut one-as it was too much of a painful reminder of the sad tale of Hans Christian Andersen`s story of the little “Fir Tree”-a rather grim metaphor of life. Those Andersen stories were always far too sad for me-I never liked them as a child, they always brought tears to my eyes. Though I still have a book of Andersen tales that my grandfather gave me one Christmas-I have to admit I never did read all-far too sad.
But, Christmas Eve was always special at our house. The sparkling dancing coloured lights and the glittering decorations always conjured up the magic of the season. I can see my father and grandfather-whom he called Tata, chatting by the fireplace re-living their war stories and "the good old days" which had passed them by. How beautiful it all was, how fleeting. It just brings tears to my eyes as I revisit the moments.
Making the Christmas dinner was so special. I can still hear the hustle and bustle in the kitchen, with the fish soup bubbling on top of the stove and the spicy smell of the fried fish as my grandmother lowered them into the sizzling oil. Me, peeling the boiled potatoes, cutting the onions for our famous traditional salad. Then setting the table-it . It always looked awesome, with our best China and silverware “on guard”- and of course many candles. Christmas records playing on the turn table non-stop. Yes-they were vinyl back in those days, and sounded fabulous. Years later, in Canada, we acquired two beautiful huge porcelain antique candelabras that we have been using for the past 40 years.
Yes-, the Christmas angels rang the bell and baby Jesus brought the present-piles of them in various forms. Oh, I believed in those angels for a long, long time. Month before Christmas, from age 7, every year I saved money for months to buy the gifts. I went shopping months before for my parents and grandparents with so much excitement that my heart always just wanted to jump out of my chest. I hid everything all through the house. I could hardy wait for Christmas Eve with enormous anticipation. Yes-my mom always got something pretty-jewelry, perfume or clothes . My father and grandfather always got the traditional tie, scent and cigarettes-sadly the latter killed them both, but who knew then.
So the bottom line is that it is never about the presents, the special gifts-neither is it about the angels. It is all about the people around that table that we love deeply. It is also about the past which a sad reminder of how many loved ones were originally around our Christmas table, and now we are nursing a broken heart for their loss. All we have are the memories seared into our hearts. But-we shall all be together one day and that silver cord shall never be broken ever. Love does that. So it is.
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