60 years ago, Christmas would never be the same again.
It was 1960. Our father had died in January of that year and so it was the first Christmas without him. I was 6. And I have to confess I don’t remember Christmas 1959 – so that as they say, is that.
But I do remember that Christmas, the woman next door, who never gave us presents before, came bearing gifts. Mine was a little hexagonal shaped pink plastic bottle containing rose scented bath crystals and I felt all grown up.
And I was all grown up! I had learned something very important during the course of that year and that is that no Christmas is ever the same, no year is ever the same, no day is ever the same. I’ve not always chosen to use this enlightenment wisely. At its best, it makes every day a gift. At its worst it makes life unbearably sad. In between there’s empathy. On the one hand, I don’t tend to take people for granted. On the other, I do have a tendency to keep people at a distance. Always I am thankful for the Now.
So before you rush out of lockdown to buy things you don’t really need, think about Covid and what that trip to the mall might actually cost. Stay safe. There will be other Christmases to come and I guarantee, none of them will ever be ‘the same’.
This Christmas will not be the same
as other Christmases have been;
accustomed dinner, same bright tree,
the usual drivel on TV
no extended family,
just thee and me,
glad to be here
as every year.
This temporary discontent
created by the media
rapacious grasping for more things
in case we think of birth or death.
So many people lost this year.
Carolling a waste of breath.
In silent night, I breathe a prayer
for the innocent.
No Christmas is the same
as other Christmases have been.
© Oonah V Joslin 2020
