I’m sitting in bed drinking tea and messaging our son Alex in Australia when the phone buzzes in my hand and there he is, smiling and looking well against a backdrop of blue sky and palm trees. He and Lia are in Yamba, northern NSW and have just spent the day with my 95 year old mother, my sister and her husband and he fills me on on how they all are. Mum is still on her feet, walking unaided and, although she repeats herself, is engaged and full of chat. It’s good to hear.
They’re off to Brisbane where Alex and Lia were both born, where Lia’s family still lives and will spend Christmas with them on the Sunshine coast. After that, plans are altering. They’d intended flying to Cairns to visit the Barrier Reef, but after tropical storms, both the airport and Port Douglas are under water.
Our daughter, Kate, is also out of the country so, for the first time ever, we’re having Christmas day with friends and I’m not cooking! Of course, we’d rather our offspring were with us, but this lack of responsibility goes a long way towards compensating. And we’re not the only ones amongst our oldest friends who are having a non-traditional Christmas. Penny and Geoff are in Peru and Sue and Greg in Brisbane have already had their family Christmas and will spend the 25th happily doing nothing.
I think of Christmases past, the different forms they’ve taken, and remember that small window in time between large family gatherings and the start of sharing Alex and Kate with other people. And I realise it was very small indeed: a total of one Christmas when it was just the four of us together in Falmouth, my favourite of all, I think. But then images flash into my mind of Kate and Alex as children, the excitement of opening presents, the fun of mince pie making, school carol services and setting the treasure hunt on the Malvern Hills for the family to do the next day. Then there’d be aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins all sitting around the table together and I’m glad they have those memories.
Christmases of the future will be something else again, perhaps more akin to the sort we had back in Australia in our twenties. With a bit of luck, we’ll share some of them with Kate and Alex and their partners, but if not, then that’s OK too. I agree with Steve Turner, although for rather different reasons, that Christmas is really for children.
Whatever you’re doing, I hope you have a very happy Christmas and, please, let 2024 bring a bit more humanity into the world.
Christmas is really for the children – Steve Turner
Christmas is really for the children.
Especially for children who like animals, stables,
stars and babies wrapped in swaddling clothes.
Then there are wise men, kings in fine robes,
humble shepherds and a hint of rich perfume.
Easter is not really for the children
unless accompanied by a cream filled egg.
It has whips, blood, nails, a spear and allegations
of body snatching.
It involves politics, God and the sins of the world.
It is not good for people of a nervous disposition.
They would do better to think on rabbits, chickens
and the first snowdrop of spring.
Or they’d do better to wait for a re-run of
Christmas without asking too many questions about
what Jesus did when he grew up
or whether there’s any connection.