It’s the night before Christmas and here I am snuggled up under the covers too excited to sleep.
You could almost mistake me for a small child who believes Santa Claus is just about to arrive. But then again I don’t think I ever even believed in him to start with – I was too curious and too stubborn as a child (and not much has changed) to believe that for 365 days a year we try to prevent strangers from breaking into our house, but on the 25th of December it’s suddenly allowed?
Yes, I was that child who would partake in an old fashion stakeout each year just to (children look away now) watch Mum deliver my very full stocking right to the end of my bed. I’d have to suppress the urge to jump up and shout ‘I KNEW IT!’ because if I did, there’d be no more stockings. And that would mean at least ten less presents next year, and no extra stocking-shaped chocolate-y goodness. So foiling Mum’s Santa Hoax just wasn’t an option, obviously.
Regardless of the whole #MumIsActuallySanta debacle however, I have still continued to love Christmas more than any other day of the year. And I have vividly sat up each Christmas Eve watching the Carols with a heart so happy I sometimes feel it might burst. It really is my favourite time of the year, right from the very early days of Spring when the Jasmine blooming and the mango trees bear fruit. Because that’s what Christmas smells like to me.
Christmas this year was supposed to be spent at the new house. I had planned the whole day out down to the very inch of likeliness that it would almost look like one of those Coles Ads in my living room (because honestly, it looks like heaven on earth). I was excited.
Then the bank lost some documents, the builders were busy and the earth decided on storms being an appropriate cover photo for November weather. And with only a couple of power points hanging loosely from the ceiling, a purple bath and being more ‘wooden frame’ than ‘completed home’, the house falls a little on the shorter side of being ‘Christmas-Hosting-Ready’. So we had to move to Plan B…
Which is Plan A really, just at my parents place.
But what can you do, that’s just life! And lets face it – there’s a whole less washing up for me so really, who’s winning here. Besides, my Christmas will wonderful wherever there’s family and Rocky-Road – so I love Plan B just as much as Plan A.
I guess that as I write this years Christmas Blog, cozy in the fluffy robe I won in the Secret Santa Steal two days ago and listening to the unusual rainfall outside my window for this time of year, I only have two things to share.
The first is that I hope you have a moment to be thankful this year. Too often we don’t stop long enough to realise how lucky we are to be surrounded by the ones we love most on Christmas. And as tempting as it may be to throw Christmas Cake at the grandparents who have talked about their eye problems and newly diagnosed diabetes for the tenth time in one day, or difficult to play nice with the sibling who definitely isn’t playing nice back… you should know that some people out there in this world tonight would give anything to have that because it would simply mean not having to spend another Christmas alone.
I know that I am so privileged to have the opportunity to hold close my loved ones this year, to have them healthy (for the most part) and well, and alive to love me right back. Because I honestly don’t know how I would do life without them.
The second is that I hope you make so many memories. Beautiful ones that you capture on camera and hang on the wall. Ones that will forever remind you of a wonderful Christmas Day where the food was delicious, and the company was even better. Where the air was thick with love and laughter, and your heart discovered what it feels like to be truly, deeply and overwhelmingly happy.
These are my Christmas wishes for you, and I hope that they come true. Because, without deliberately wanting to sound too much like Buddy the Elf, everyone deserves to know the sparkle and cheer of Christmas.
And I really hope you find both this year.