Christmas Memories

Memories are made up of times and places. People and faces. Gifts and giving. 

I think back to a few of my Christmas’s and can recall where I spent them and with whom. Also marked by a few significant gifts received.

Here are a few that come to mind!

Aged 4 – Receiving my first-love doll (from my paternal grandparents)
Aged 5 – Old-fashioned radio from Santa 

Aged 6- Red bicycle with a coin taped on it’s seat (it got stolen later on)

Aged 9 – Puzzle from my aunt in a triangle box

Aged 10 – Walkmans with boney m 

Aged 13 – chocolate boxes from grandparents, and George Michael singing you’ve got to have Faith

Aged 20 – Receiving a necklace and mug from my polish boyfriend that now holds all our leftover coins (the year I was so in love, bless him) (also stolen)

Aged 22  – Gold cross from my father, the year my mother passed away (stolen)

Aged 36 – a silver necklace from my husband, the only piece of jewelry gifted to me from him (apart from my wedding rings)

Aged 37 – Pandora necklace from my sister, the year she spent Christmas in Sydney with us

Aged 41 – Book I’m still busy reading, All the light we cannot see

Birth of a New Day

 

It’s Monday morning in Sydney, and the start of Christmas week. Sharing one of my favorites, transports me right back to the age of ten, and being on holiday with cousins and grandparents and aunts and uncles and family!!

“Never Ending Story”

Turn around
Look at what you see
In her face
The mirror of your dreams

Make believe I’m everywhere
Given in the light
Written on the pages
Is the answer to a never ending story
Ahahah ahahah ahahah…

Reach the stars
Fly a fantasy
Dream a dream
And what you see will be

Rhymes that keep their secrets
Will unfold behind the clouds
And there upon a rainbow
Is the answer to a never ending story
Ahahah ahahah ahahah…

Story
Ahahah ahahah ahahah…

Show no fear
For she may fade away
In your hand
The birth of a new day

Rhymes that keep their secrets
Will unfold behind the clouds
And there upon a rainbow
Is the answer to a never ending story
Ahahah ahahah ahahah…

Never ending story
Ahahah ahahah ahahah…
Never ending story
Ahahah ahahah ahahah…
Never ending story
Ahahah ahahah ahahah…

Santa Claus

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “When Childhood Ends.”

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I recall an ‘adult’ coversation I had with my mother when I was all of six. I remember receiving a little black radio for Christmas amongst a whole lot of other gifts. I went to my mother in the kitchen and asked her to be honest with me. Does Santa really exist? She turned to look at me, are you wanting to know the truth? Yes, I replied, I’m here to ask. She said to me, your Dad is Santa and the gifts are from him. I felt so grownup to be told the truth, and to be in on the ‘grownup’ secret. It was strange looking at the gifts and knowing that they were not randomly selected by Santa, but by my father himself.