I can’t believe it, but apparently it’s true – another year is coming to an end. The tree is decorated, lights are hung, Christmas shopping is complete. While traditionally it’s the time of year we reflect on the last twelve months, I thought perhaps it was time for some confessions.
Some Christmas Confessions
Confession 1 – Every year I buy my sister a book for Christmas, because I know once she’s read it, she’ll pass it on to me, so technically it’s a present to myself!! Now don’t get me wrong. Books are my favourite present to give, and this year I’m giving one to her, one to my mum, one to my friend Gigi, and two to my daughter. Because I love giving books. I love choosing something I think they might like. I love hearing about their reading experience afterward. To me the gift of a book is a gift of love. But the one I give my sister is always one I want to read myself, so while it carries all that other significance, I must confess it isn’t a totally selfless gift.
Confession 2 – I don’t miss my Dad at Christmas. This sounds harsh, but it’s really not. Dad died seven years ago and since his passing it’s never been dates, as such, that get to me. Father’s Day is a little sad as I remind hubby to send something to his dad, knowing I can’t send anything to mine, but birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas have never got to me. The times I miss my dad most are random moments. When a new Doctor Who is cast and I want to discuss with Dad if the actor is a good choice. When I’m not sure if the small Aussie town I’m writing about would have had electricity in 1930 and I want to ask him, because that would be the sort of thing he’d know. When Bannockburn comes on the telly in some show I’m flicking past, because we travelled through Scotland, just the two of us, a couple of years before he passed and he could expound on the history and battles that took place there and I wish we could do it all again. When I have a big decision to make and I want to be able to talk to him about it, because he was the best at talking things through. When a Cole Porter song plays in a movie, because that music is synonymous with Dad and we saw Anything Goes in London’s West End when we were on that trip in the UK. When I finish a manuscript and want to tell him, because he was the first person I ever told I was writing and he was so in awe and so encouraging and understood what a big a deal it is to put that many words on paper. I don’t miss Dad at Christmas, but I miss him all the time.
Confession 3 – seemingly at odds with #2 – I do miss home at Christmas when we don’t travel back. We live 6 hours’ drive from my home town, and hubby’s family are 6 hours away in a completely different direction, so I only get home once every couple of years for the holidays, and it never feels right not being with Mum and my sister and her kids at Christmas. And it never feels right not being on the beaches of my youth at this time of year either. (Except the year we spent Christmas in Prague, because that was too magical not feel ‘right’.) This year we are at my in-laws and one of my friends is in my home town for the holidays and she keeps posting photos on Facebook and I must confess, I’m jealous as all get up.
I think three might do it. If you’re feeling brave, leave me a little Christmas Confession in the comments below – just between you and me!
I wish you all a wonderful Christmas and happy and safe holiday season. May 2017 be the year your dreams come true.