The Cocoon of Memory

Missing A Home

Well, today is Christmas Eve and I find myself deeply orphaned with my close family dead or separated through disagreement. Please don’t get me wrong- this is not a post of complaint or unwarranted negativity. It is one of true, deep sadness, cutting grief brought on by truthful realisations, inescapable loneliness and memories of Christmases past that my parents put such love, generosity and effort into creating. And,oh yes, listening to the voices of choirs from England that set my mother to tears for days.

Normally, I have cocooned myself in the gentleness and beauty that I remember and hold so close. And, oh yes, the carols from England. I get as many candles as possible and twinkling strands to brighten whatever hearth I find myself in that year. I also buy flowers and either a beleaguered tree or poinsettia left to dry out in a store. I always must save a plant. I also get enough bird seed to give my chilled feathered neighbours a treat on the day. When living in Vermont in the hills covered by feet of snow and ice, I remember my parents putting on parkas and Bean boots and going into the garage and loading garbage can covers with bird seed and suet and frisbbeing them onto the glistening drive . No one could eat before the birds were properly cared for. I continue to live by that tradition.

Today, I get a few treats for myself to soften the hard edges of celebrating alone . This year, I just can’t lull myself to comfort and warmth by remembrances of what no longer exists. So, it is a surf-ride between love, a softening to hot tears trickling copiously over my heart. I just can’t and won’t ignore it even as King’s College choir enters the cathedral singing “ Once In Royal David’s City “. I am in France and it is at least the 12th year spending Christmas completely alone and realising sharply that I have no home, no friends here, a nebulous pathway that I seek to carve out with such little success. Yes, today, my heart is broken and the heaviness would crack the back of Sysiphus. I feel odd in not finding the false cheer that would keep me afloat, but there it is…

I remain with my parents and those dear friends that did share their Christmases with me and, oh yes, the music

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