My Xmas Visitor- Every Year.
Without Prejudice
She comes to me in the shiny baubles on the tree the soft warm glow of the lamps and the candles lit and their smoky scent permeates the air. And she is there in the smiles of the kids and the delight in their eyes when they open their so many presents.
She's there in the camera, taking her photos of delight of her wonderful "babies"
She visits us every Xmas and we haven't always seen her other years, years of hardship. But she comes this year, her dazzling smile lighting the room and adding a warmth to it. She's there in the mince pies, made and cakes and fudge.
She's there in the Music, 1927 coming on unexpectedly and if "Sweet Child Of Mine" comes on I am exiting the room. You don't stop thinking about them but you put it ibto a more manageable place and I like the warm glow that gives me.
Sometimes I feel like screaming too, don't worry but I don't. Thats new. I am sad in a way , of course, but I know she's around us. My Dad too and Mum and Jamie, Tiny, hovering. They were all lovely good hearted people.
People you were glad to see because you knew you'd end up laughing and feel good for hours after seeing them. My Dad was a happy man and so was Tiny, happy in their natures and kindly. lovely Dad figures.
And wise. Very wise.
Down to earth as well and not without their faults, but basically just men, good men who loved their wives and families and didn't shirk from their responsibilities.
And were not shy to show emotion. Also a good thing for a girl to see, as she worships her Dad, anyway, when she's young. Mine loved to brush my tangled hair and tell me off for being such a little Tom Boy and the only time I defied him as a child he was trying to make me take salt tablets.
We were swimming in races in some far off town and I did not want to take those tablets and it came down to a showdown and I was all of 7. But he ended up having to overpower me to take them and Dad never did that.
I fought him like a wild cat and spat them out into the sink and in the end I won, I wasn't taking stupid dumb tablets I didn't need. I could always get around my Dad and I knew it, he knew it, the whole family all knew it.
I went for him again after Mum died. I blamed him. I wanted someone to blame and he was it. If only their lives had been better, she following him like a docile puppy when she was not nuts and screaming at him in frightening "episodes" where she was violent and didn't recognise even him.
I blamed him for years after Mum died, but I got over it and realised she was better off where she was, she was at peace at last after five years of frightening mental illness.
She's there in the presents given and received, she's there in everything. The juicy bone for the dog, the pats of the muscle bound cat, the food coming out and the wishes we send each other.
Miss Floss comes to us every year at Christmas. Just making sure we are all OK and believe it or not. "Knocking On Heaven's Door". comes on the radio, and it's not Guns N Roses but Bob Dylan.
Love You Mum xoxox
She comes to me in the shiny baubles on the tree the soft warm glow of the lamps and the candles lit and their smoky scent permeates the air. And she is there in the smiles of the kids and the delight in their eyes when they open their so many presents.
She's there in the camera, taking her photos of delight of her wonderful "babies"
She visits us every Xmas and we haven't always seen her other years, years of hardship. But she comes this year, her dazzling smile lighting the room and adding a warmth to it. She's there in the mince pies, made and cakes and fudge.
She's there in the Music, 1927 coming on unexpectedly and if "Sweet Child Of Mine" comes on I am exiting the room. You don't stop thinking about them but you put it ibto a more manageable place and I like the warm glow that gives me.
Sometimes I feel like screaming too, don't worry but I don't. Thats new. I am sad in a way , of course, but I know she's around us. My Dad too and Mum and Jamie, Tiny, hovering. They were all lovely good hearted people.
People you were glad to see because you knew you'd end up laughing and feel good for hours after seeing them. My Dad was a happy man and so was Tiny, happy in their natures and kindly. lovely Dad figures.
And wise. Very wise.
Down to earth as well and not without their faults, but basically just men, good men who loved their wives and families and didn't shirk from their responsibilities.
And were not shy to show emotion. Also a good thing for a girl to see, as she worships her Dad, anyway, when she's young. Mine loved to brush my tangled hair and tell me off for being such a little Tom Boy and the only time I defied him as a child he was trying to make me take salt tablets.
We were swimming in races in some far off town and I did not want to take those tablets and it came down to a showdown and I was all of 7. But he ended up having to overpower me to take them and Dad never did that.
I fought him like a wild cat and spat them out into the sink and in the end I won, I wasn't taking stupid dumb tablets I didn't need. I could always get around my Dad and I knew it, he knew it, the whole family all knew it.
I went for him again after Mum died. I blamed him. I wanted someone to blame and he was it. If only their lives had been better, she following him like a docile puppy when she was not nuts and screaming at him in frightening "episodes" where she was violent and didn't recognise even him.
I blamed him for years after Mum died, but I got over it and realised she was better off where she was, she was at peace at last after five years of frightening mental illness.
She's there in the presents given and received, she's there in everything. The juicy bone for the dog, the pats of the muscle bound cat, the food coming out and the wishes we send each other.
Miss Floss comes to us every year at Christmas. Just making sure we are all OK and believe it or not. "Knocking On Heaven's Door". comes on the radio, and it's not Guns N Roses but Bob Dylan.
Love You Mum xoxox
