Elf and crosses and some enlightening reading material.
Jakes reaction to news
Day one: Tree up, lights on, number of kitten attacks zero. kitten self restraint thus far remarkable
Christmas tree Day one: second hour. Number of kitten attacks 10 damage: nil water pistol squirts: 3 Kitty time outs: 2 times I had to run about trying to catch kitty for time outs: 300.
Elf day 6 :We also seem to have a small elf infestation.
I pile up box upon box, moving them room to room, gravity and space conspiring against my every turn.
Yet again a dead family of woodlice in the corner, hidden. I have no clue.
I sit and open the brown and slightly soggy archive boxes that have lived in the loft all year and lift out a large, round tin that used to hold chocolates, devoured one Christmas.
I peer in and see wrapped in tissue by yesterdays hand, shiny glimmers of light and colour. Round and sparkly they represent Christmas past.
I touch them in turn, I can see , in my minds eye, pudgy fingers of a little girl hanging the bauble she chose that year on the tree with pride and I reflect how I never would have owned this bauble had it not been for that little lady. her taste and mine have always been different and I watch her now as she is emerging into a smart and capable young woman with a familiar feeling of amazement and bewilderment.
I had forgotten so many of these treasures, till I see them once more and their story unfolds for me, the how and the why of them. They seem too lovely to be boxed up most of the year.
I see a beautiful angel painted inside glass in her very own box and I remember hanging it on the tree and stealing kisses and laughing and smiling with the love of my life, a good and true man who has loved us all, with so much well meaning goodness my heart actually swells and aches just to think of it and I can’t believe my good fortune, that my foolish young heart somehow knew.
Nestled in the centre is the smallest bauble of all and yet the most precious. It’s plain glass with a little glass angel inside and on it is engraved an in loving memory for my little brother. I hold it and remember, but do not feel the overwhelming horror of those early years of loss and how it felt back then, that if the bauble were to shatter, I might too. I nestle it back into its tissue and wipe a tear
Some baubles are uncomplicated. a happy shopping trip, a pretty colour, just a few years old they are not infused yet, They will be part of the tapestry of Christmas to come.
The growing up Christmas’ of a little boy, The growing away Christmas’ of a nearly grown up girl, The growing older Christmas’ we have to come.
Till one day every bauble will have lost the memories it holds for me, the chubby and child like, the hopes and joys, the sparkle of the years, and they will all become memories of Christmas at home.
I try not to feel despair, not to feel all that is fleeting is pointless because it will end but to treasure the moments and the memories we are all making and infusing our lives with.
For Love must be strong if a bauble can tell a story.
(these are not our baubles, will replace with real picture once up loader working)
Lily looks fat! ( she does)
Is she fat? is she pregnant? Is it an egg she is keeping warm.. who knows? As I said to Dan in bed last night.. Elves are a curious and mysterious folk.
I have decided to take a blog sabbatical in January 2014.
More and more the small little heyday my blog enjoyed, where I met other bloggers and we had conversations via the comments box has died off and I really am talking to myself these days.
I will take the time to write, to read, to chill and journey in during the bleakest Month of the year.
I will probably think about if I want to continue blogging or if I just blog sporadically or in pictures for a time.
We are in the middle of planning an exciting trip for Dan’s Birthday, possibly to Morocco in February so I will blog that.
Of course we are in the midst of all things Christmas, that and Dan’s Dubai visit will fill December.
I have loved blogging and meeting so many lovely people, I am just wondering if it’s something I want to continue sometimes the words drain me, sometimes the feeling of posting our lives in the public domain leaves me feeling exposed. Sometimes it just feels really silly to bother at all.
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