In a moment of sisterly insanity last week, the bould Molly and myself agreed to post on the 23rd of December.
It is now, officially, the 24th and I am the victim of my own conscience.
Better late than never, I tell myself.
Christmas has always been, for me, a time of mixed emotions.
Manic exhilaration, as a child, when the postman stopped at our door carrying several brown paper parcels. Delight at the golden-haired doll at the end of the bed on Christmas morning. Unspeakable pleasure on donning the softest white, woollen scarf and hat.
Misery and resentment waking up, alone, having been forced to sign my mother into a drying out facility on Christmas Eve.
Love and happiness for my baby's first encounter with the magic of Santa.
Loneliness and sadness for love unspoken.
And now its 2008.
Happiness and delight at No. 1 daughter's engagement.
Apprehension and pride at No. 1 son's plans to get off the merry-go-round and walk the world.
Gratitude and love for the lives of the ancient ones.
Optimism and hope.
Tis the season to be human. Indeed.
May all your Christmases be bright.
