Christmastide has always had the quality of being a magical island, rising above the drab grey seas of midwinter, twinkling with fairy lights and warmed by mulled wine. Even more so since the children grew up and left home - now it is a time when they return and we re-form the nuclear family we once were. We do the Christmas baking, read the Night Before Christmas together, watch old films, play daft games and go for endless muddy walks guided home by the glow of early sunsets.
Nowadays, as soon as the last child has left, without
waiting for the 5th or 6th of January, I take the
decorations down. I guess it draws a
clear boundary between the fresh start of the New Year and the precious island
of Christmastide, a country which has sunken below the horizon for now.
But next December, we shall set sail again, navigating
towards Christmas, guided by its winking lights and the hope that our children
will journey to be there with us once more.
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