Someone in the office said they saw Bumble-Bees using the chemical sugars in anti-freeze to make honey on the TV, but wasn’t sure if it was edible. I’ve just gone and searched the internet to see if I can buy a jar of this sweet toxic foodstuff as a novelty item – alas to no avail. Random day-to-day conversations have returned back at work with comfortable regularity with the holidays I absolutely adored assigned to a section of a calendar we’ve already taken down.
On Christmas Eve I sat in the living room with all the children in bed, only the rainbow lights from the tree illuminated a hemisphere of carpet in a dull red glow – the brightness stayed close to the decorated branches so I moved my face closer to the source. And as my eyes absorbed the glints of multi-coloured baubles and my nose the smell of tinsel, I felt the call from a Dickensian ghost. The moment you are sent recalling with clarity other Christmastimes in your life, usually the gifts you received, but other less replayed events – a school kiss; your Grandparents full house; when you awoke to find at the bottom of the bed He’d been. Because Christmas is full of joy it leaves a lasting impression in our minds and is therefore a great benchmark for scanning the distance between the passing years all the way back to childhood. For example, exactly 31 years ago I had a space shuttle toy, a Cor! comic annual and my parents separated. I know this with certainty, because that was the year the magic died.
Standing against the tree looking at the dimly lit carrot and mince-pie ensconced upon the stool for Santa and his reindeer – I knew something else that was certain, time had healed. You don’t have to make honey from the same place as the rest of your hive – break a cycle – I love Christmas again, this time through the eyes of my own children. Their stockings lay on each side of the settee, the foot of the radiator, beside the tree, next to the television – all with their own corner of the room that they believed Father Christmas would remember from the years before. And you know something, He did. As for my parents, they made it over from Australia for the first Christmas in 7 years – finally a full house – a massive amount of joy – a huge impression on young minds – a true benchmark for their future selves to recall with much fondness.
As I wrapped my arms around my parents yesterday as I said goodbye I decided to recall only the warm moments they gave me this year when the ghostly visitations next take hold, and use the poisoned honey instead to melt away these frosty memories because underneath the 1983 wrapping paper they were always a sweet and loving Mother and Father trying to find their own magic. I hope, like it was for them, it eventually arrives to you this year in whatever form you so desire, be it health, wealth or something a little more spiritual may you find it in abundance in 2014.
Thank-you for listening to The Lemon Circus over the last few busy weeks and I simply wish for your company again in the not so distant future 😉 Blessings to you and all your family always.