Saturday, 24 December 2016

25 12 2016

It’s Christmas Eve.  In the past the excitement of this day would have threatened to overtake me so much that the wine would literally be spilling by 12 pm, I would literally be moving around with an ear to ear smile plastered on my face that I would excitedly share with every Tom, Dick, and Harry. Today is very different, it is another day, I do not see a difference, and I do not feel a difference. I have become part of the group I used to shower with pity, a group I used to look down upon with disbelief and disdain wondering how someone can possibly not find that excitement to revel in the magic of Christmas. I could not fathom the truth to statistics that report that there is an increase in the number of suicides during the festive season. I could not comprehend how anyone could near drown in sadness and loneliness, for goodness sakes even the homeless greeted you with hope for a future but I see this day in a different light today and I am reminded of when I went to Oxford for a work induction in 2000 and spent a 6 weeks period there up to the Christmas shopping season. I remember watching as the elderly who generally lived alone in apartments, spent hours on end looking out of long windows, taking walks in the freezing cold weather daily to the local supermarkets, looking so heartbreakingly alone, clothed in their thoughts, probably reminiscing in full day dream throttle of their past that played out on the same pavements that they now shuffle through in solitude with their diverse walking aids, with heavy winter coats from another era and heavy hearts loaded with the visions of another era. Today I wake up grateful for the porridge I am eating, in my daughter’s one bedroom, 3rd floor apartment, with a clear view of the N1 highway, across the street from three churches, a taxi rank, Pakistani, West African and other shops, in front of McDonalds,  behind Kentucky Fried Chicken and the new Chinese Mall, with my 2 out of 3 children, the 3rd re-building torn family relations in my country of birth, my grandchild on this cold rainy day which mirrors the cold rain of London on the day before Christmas.

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