Christmas Impressions

 

 It's the Christmas of the weird year 2020. Well, actually it’s over right now. For me it only lasted two days, because on the Boxing Day I had to go to work. London was raised to Tier 4 but no one cares. We wish each other a "merry Christmas", but the world is not so happy. Some people waited a long time to see their relatives, be with their families and spend a few days together, but, unfortunately, it didn’t look exactly like that.

    I’m sitting at night, thinking. I look at the Christmas tree and the fairy lights on the window sills. For a few years in a row we have had a family from Poland coming to visit us. We used to spend a nice Christmas together. Such a new family tradition. This year we are spending Christmas on our own. Honestly, it's not that bad. We are tired. Work, twins, this whole strange year. Some ads outside, on the bus stops say: "All I want for Christmas is 2021". People need change. New Year to be different. Normal. We all need stability. 

    I'm not bad. We’ve had a nice Christmas Eve, lots of family fun and some good presents under the tree. We’ve had everything we needed. Honestly, we got ready for Christmas much earlier. Somewhere in mid-November air smelled strongly of a new lockdown and my wife and I decided to buy everything in advance. Dumplings went to the freezer, red borscht lives in a carton anyway, sauerkraut in jars, sour rye soup was not a problem, as I always make it myself. Dried mushrooms (two packs) in a cupboard, selection of fish in the jars can last in the fridge forever. What we were missing was carp but, just in case, we’ve had some frozen cod. We were ready. Then they raised London to Tier 3, and it didn't change much, except that they closed the pubs. And again, they raised to Tier 4. France started to block the borders and deliveries to the Polish store (Mleczko, conscious and voluntary advertising) did not arrive on time. For a moment it looked like there would be no carp. I didn't despair, because I don't like it. I eat a little piece once a year to maintain the tradition and only this. Everything arrived after all, and it turned out that freezing in advance was unnecessary, but we did not regret it. Better be prepared than be sorry. 

    It used to be different in the old days. Years ago, almost forty years ago, the whole family waited for Christmas Eve. For this one day, when everyone would sit in the living room by the Christmas tree and eat traditional dishes, those that are eaten only once a year, because everyone knows that Christmas Eve supper tastes completely unique. I am convinced that every family has its own Christmas traditions, and we had them too. That was simply beautiful. Live carps swimming in the bath tub for a week before Christmas. Smell of cooking and baking, presents. Visiting family. Chopping down a Christmas tree in the forest, illegally. Tones of snow.

    This year is different. Everyone is celebrating on its own. Nobody is going anywhere. There is no joy in many homes because many have lost their loved ones. I look at my children. They enjoy their time, they have fun and laugh. They celebrate in their own way. My older, nine years old, is very happy because he doesn't have school. The twins are only two years old. They are happy because they have both parents for themselves, which is a rare treat for them. Neither of them knows a different life, a different celebration. Poor guys, I say to myself, they'll never know what it used to be like. Poor children, I think, and then I freeze. Because, in fact, why would they be poor anyway?

    It all sounds like the lamentation of an old fart. Cry for lost youth. And that's the way it is. Each of us loses something important with each passing year. It's just that it doesn't matter. My children will never understand what I have lost. They won't find out what it used to be like in my past, and they won't care. Their lives are here and now, and it is my responsibility to create their memories. Virus or war, they don't know the difference. I can see them happy. Perhaps one day they will tell someone what Christmas was like in their family home. Maybe, when I'm gone, they will look at the Christmas tree and reflect on what they have lost and, at the same time, smile at what they have gained?

    What will Christmas Eve be next year? No one knows. My son asks about snow. He has seen a very little of it, because if it is snowing in England, it is only for a moment and it melts immediately. I would like to show him the real winter. One with snow up to your waist. With the trees bending under the white weight and the silence, so unique, and the creaking under your boots. I would like him to see that kind of winter and taste it. I wish for so many things.

    I'm sitting and writing, looking at the Christmas tree. I think about how my father unrolled the tangled strings of Christmas tree lights every year, placed them neatly on the carpet, and we had to check each bulb separately. He used to tell us where and what kind of Christmas ornament to hang on the tree, because in his opinion it was the best way to decorate and it was so damn irritating. I let my children go wild with decorating. My plan was different in the first place. I wanted to put baubles high, where my little girls would not reach, and below only edible stuff - gingerbread and fruit, because I was afraid they would eat what they could get. It didn't work out because I saw how much fun they have decorating the Christmas tree and I couldn't spoil it for them.

    On the Boxing Day I went back to work.Just life. I'm not complaining. I had a few days off before Christmas, we spent them together and that's all. I know I do what I have to do, and as much as I can. My children enjoy what they have. They will never complain, because they know no other world. At this stage, I create their world. I am responsible for what it will look like to them. And for what they will say about it one day.

    I’m thinking. I am a bit sad because I lost my old world. Irretrievably, because what was, lives only in me. I look at the Christmas tree and smile because I know that I am building a new world. For myself and for those I love. All these baubles and lights... One bauble came with us all the way from Mexico. The top on our tree, shiny, golden spike - it’s always for my son to put it on at the very end. A string runs from the Christmas tree straight to the window, tied to the small hook. If not for it, the girls would have demolished the tree in ten minutes. In my parents’ house, a piece of bandage used to tie the tree to the radiator, so that it would not fall over, because it was crooked.

    You know what? The virus has changed nothing for me. My family is together. Everyone is happy. Maybe in a few days Boris will shut down the country again. Maybe I won't have enough milk for the twins. It’s possible that France will close the borders and the polish sausage will not get here either. So what? I bake bread myself and I can also make pasta if I need to. 

I am here and now, just as I was there and then.

    I had a great Christmas. 

We managed to go for a walk twice. We did different things. We played "Uno". We screamed at each other, argued and took offenses. We didn't need anything else.

We were together.

That's all.

No need to say more.