Sunday 15 November 2015

Christmas officially begins in the Griffiths House

     Today is usually one of the happiest days of the year for me. It comes third after Christmas day and my birthday. Today, the Sunday after Remembrance Day, I am free to unleash the glitter gods and decorate my house for Christmas. I leap out of bed and go straight to the stereo. It isn't quite Christmas without the upbeat melodies of Michael Buble. The Lego Holiday Village takes its rightful place on the desk, the Christmas tree proudly stands adorned with years of glittered ornament making, the Holiday music can he heard from the street and the smell of bacon and waffles waft through the morning air. There is always a "Monica" moment from me, where I panic because the ornaments aren't being put in the right spot or there are too many gold balls and not enough red ones in the bottom corner. Its taken a few years for me to let go and allow others to help decorate the tree. Its a sacred thing! I still resist the urge to move them all around after the kids have gone to bed. 
 
     Even though I am surrounded by so much beauty and love, at the end of the day it feels like there is something missing. I know that the holidays are especially tough when important people are missing from your life. For me it is no different. Just because it was my choice to no longer have contact with my parents, doesn't mean I don't miss them. In fact, I don't miss them, I miss having parents. Real, loving parents who care for and support me. The feelings are stronger than ever this time of year. What I wouldn't give to have a family baking day with my kids grandparents. Learning all the family recipes, sharing family Christmas stories, seeing what it looks like to have three generations of people cooking in the same kitchen. Most people take this for granted. What I wouldn't give to have ten people sleeping here on Christmas Eve, eating cookies and drinking eggnog late into the night. Then waking up one by one after hearing the pitter patter of little feet, no doubt from my youngest son Austin, who is always first out of bed. What I wouldn't give.....