I'm sitting here alone, in my living room, Christmas tree lights blinking and stormy clouds outside my window. I miss my family, some of whom are in the states right now. I look forward to having Christmas with them in the coming years here, where it's warm and lovely on the day. My son, right now, is wrapped up in a winter coat and hat when all he wants is to grab his surfboard and head out for some waves after present opening on Christmas Day. My grandson knows who Santa Claus is for the first time and doesn't especially like him. He has a 'Gaga' (that's his name for me and now it's stuck) who lives in the computer. I long to give him a cuddle and hold him on my lap while I read the Night Before Christmas to him.
I don't really care about Christmas. I like it enough but it's awfully forced for too much liking. To me it is a day to spend with my sons - only one this year but he'll do - and eat good food, special food, that we wouldn't have the rest of the year. It is a time to talk to family and old friends. It is some time away from work and school to reflect on life and get some of those 'Isn't it a Shame' (I didn't have more time) things done. It's my time to go to galleries and exhibitions, movies and out for lunches.
I am sentimental over old Christmas years. I miss my Dad and other good friends and family memebers who have passed away - Dad loved Christmas for the same reasons as I like it - food and family. But as lonely as I feel, as sad as I am that I only get to Skype with my family, I also feel incredibly lucky in my life. I have health, safety, love, freedom, hot water and a toilet, hope, money, food, my eyes, the internet, quiet, independence, books, a creative mind, music, yarn and an open mind. Lucky. I will not take any of these things for granted in the future. I will revel in the fact that I can have a shower every day, go for a walk with no fear, drink clean water, read Salmon Rushdie and speak my mind. I will pay attention and be merry. I will drink a glass of eggnog and toast my good fortune.
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