My Life on a Plate

Melancholy Baby

I finally got round to decorating my tree this morning. Now please don't think I'm feeling sorry for myself or that I'm ungrateful, but as I went about the task, many thoughts and memories flitted through my brain and I admit to shedding a few tears. This time of year is a time of associations, reflections and comparisons for many people I'm sure.

Five years ago I recovered from a serious illness and felt renewed, refreshed and looked forward to the future. I decided we needed a new tree and decorations and despite my feelings about Christmas, I must admit it's a beautiful tree and my ornaments subtle and tasteful. Most of the other decorations I made myself and I do think they're very pretty and just enough, without being over the top. I like the traditional reds, greens and golds of the season and simple white lights. Yes, we're looking festive and warm and ready for whatever the day might bring.

But as I hung the ornaments on the tree my mind couldn't help revisiting Christmas's past. My childhood when we lived at my grandparent's house. My grandmother's pretty silver tree with it's gaudy yet attractive ornaments, complete with the ceramic nativity scene I loved so much. As I did my grandparents, long gone now but never forgotten. Photographs of Christmas in St Louis remind me of those other grandparents I never had the chance to know. I remember my American grandfather passed away on Christmas day too.

Teenage Christmas years when we'd moved to another home, small, humble and often troubled. But nonetheless, there were many moments of happiness and a certain magic attached to the home-cooked Christmas dinner, the wonderful gifts of records and Beatles books and the 'sophisticated' clothing I needed to attract young men, my main aim in life at that time. Now, those parents who supplied it all are in need of daily care from me and a shadow of the people they were. Much as I'm glad they're still around, it saddens me, how could it not?

Then I remember the Christmas's when our own children were small. The anticipation, the excitement of waking to find Santa had delivered and the joy in their eyes as they opened their gifts. I'm glad they've turned out so well and are still wonderful people, but Louise has her own family now and Paul my son, has his own life. They'll both still receive gifts from 'Santa,' 'St Nicholas,'Mrs Claus,' 'The Ducks,' and 'A Secret Admirer' but they're adults now, more subdued and used to my eccentricity.

My heart breaks as I find the stocking at the bottom of the box that belonged exclusively to our last dog. I cannot describe how he reacted when he saw that stocking hanging on the wall, full of doggy toys and treats. Neither can I describe the great hole left by his absence. Life goes on, it's just a cycle, but I can't help my sadness when I count up the losses. Even our budgie had a Christmas stocking before he left for the great aviary in the sky.

It will be a quiet Christmas. My sister has her own family problems and won't be able to visit until after the day. My parents don't want to be moved from the comfort and warmth of their own home. My stepdaughter feels her twins need to be at home this year to enjoy their gifts and I believe she's right. My ninety-one year old mother-in-law will join us for dinner but won't stay long as she can't manage our stairs for the loo. My obnoxious brother-in-law will take her home soon after dinner.

But as I hang the last of the decorations on the tree I analyse why I do it. I'm saddened by all the memories and losses, I'm fearful of what the next year may bring, but somewhere amongst it all the word 'hope' springs eternal. Always, there is the feeling that despite my melancholy, life just might throw a few pleasant surprises my way. For this I am grateful, for this I continue to pursue the dream and much as I don't love Christmas, I will continue to do what I have to do, in the hope that life will continue to be worthwhile.

GAWD, what a heavy entry. Not intended to be miserable, more pensive. Going to bed now and will count my blessings before I sleep. God Bless you all.