Despite the fact (or because) my birthday falls five days after Christmas, I scarcely have 24 hours in which to settle into being an unwanted six (or 30 something) when kindly neighbors are saying,
“You’ll be seven, (or 40 something) this year!”
The week between the nativity, Jesus’ not mine, and New Year has always been a struggle for me.
I miss the laden tree with gifts beneath it reaching to the middle branches.
I miss the looking out for treats whenever I shop.
I miss the gift wrap and ribbons, bows and glitter, tape and bags, cards and secrecy that goes into disguising the surprise that lies within the festive paper.
I miss the questions, the suggestions, the excitement, the lists, the decorations, the music and the checking of the letter box for cards…although only those in England remembered us this year, others sent electronic greetings that got lost on our computers and never displayed on the mantle.
I miss the baking, the shopping, the brainstorming the planning the invitations and the juggling of schedules.
I miss the anticipation of Advent, the ritual, the carols at midnight mass, the incense, the choir, the message, the gospel and the candles.
As a family we are very good at transforming December into a month of joy…
On the 25th our gift exchanges last all day and this year was no exception.
After a movie with a few family members we visited the in-laws, received and gave gifts and ate lunch.
At our new abode in town the rest of the family joined us and we cooked Indian food, mingled and enjoyed each other’s news…all together for the first time in four years when we had last celebrated Christmas en famille before leaving for England to Love My Mother to Death all the way back in 2011.
This year we scattered the gifts scavenger style. They adorned the small living and dining room, contributing to the decorations, brightening up the tables and bookshelves,
where they sat enticing children to search for a clue that the package was theirs.
When all the gasps and thanks and laughter died down the room was left beautifully littered with tissue and paper,
And dinner was served.
All too soon the evening ended, wrappings were thrown away, bags folded for another year. Only the lights were left to shine on bare branches and surfaces their twinkling reminding us of the many facets of our Savior’s love.
Presents were tucked under arms, hugs and kisses exchanged and our grown family departed.
The huge sigh of relief that all had gone well, relationships had been restored and strengthened, carved an empty space in my heart that yearned for those years when we all fell contentedly into our beds under one roof!
I will never get used to walking through an empty house after a holiday gathering, noting the cleared surfaces, the empty sink, the crisply made beds, the absence of giggles, the slow passage of uninterrupted time after the bustle of company.
No matter how many years go by the tangle of young children beneath my feet will stay paused on my silver screen of life.
My children revel in the growing up and independence I nurtured,
they happily look forward to their futures.
But at this time of year I am left counting the years that remain…
lost in the doldrums of post Christmas.
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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