Always Winter Never Christmas

Stirring the Christmas pudding mixture felt nostalgic, Sophie was content. This was the first Christmas she was looking forward to since the divorce, not felt like a misfit from either loss of identity or penury. The planning it entailed, this year, wasn’t intimidating to the extent she was considering sending cards to several neighbours. The usual feelings of isolation Christmas provoked were absent. Luke and Nina, her children, were arriving on Christmas Eve. Their home for more than twelve years, a Christmas had never christened it.

The festive season remained a long way away. Sophie cancelled out trepidation from her thoughts. She wasn’t asking a lot. Last year they’d been whisked away to a hunting lodge in Scotland for ten days by their father, so even though the odds were stacked against her, by the law of averages, this year, it was her turn and couldn't not take place.

Nina felt differently. Her memories of Christmas were painful too but for different reasons. At twenty, she held sixteen years of memories spent at other peoples Christmases, usually her Granny’s. Her mother’s ideal Christmas was a dream unshared, a notion unknown to Nina.

Since the reappearance in their lives of their dad, three years ago, Nina’s hopes this year were riding on a family affair that included the Santa Claus expectations of Odette, her half sibling. Catching the dreams of her little sister intoxicated Nina with an innocence dulled from broken dreams. A stepmother who was less than exciting because she had the nauseous habit of acting like a replacement mother, Nina didn’t need but she was angry with her mum for being a mess. Embracing her own injustices and indignations, Nina had forgotten how to count her blessings. Infectiously full of grace, naturally inclined to be so from baby to fifteen, she hadn’t worked out the connection between these two altered states.

***

It was five o’clock. The late autumn sun hung low in a clear sky, the length of day now dominated by night. Sophie was on her way home from a long walk in the woods. She was happy. There was a bite to the air, which hinted at the approaching winter. It was a wild day; strong winds swayed the trees helplessly, forcing them to shake off their leaves, which were overly present for the time of year, lingering in the mild weather. Beech leaves spun about her carpeting the ground luxuriously. Axminstered, thought Sophie. The bold weather increased her happiness. She was spotting specific shapes of Yew, Holly and ivy to use in Christmas decorations. Trailing ivy or holly on a single stem was ideal for making garlands. Secateurs often accompanied Sophie; the smallest unobtrusive, unnoticeable snip to remind her of the glories of the forest when she was at home. Walks always included spotting something. It was unfortunate, she thought, the Christmas tradition begun in her marriage had not continued alone with Luke and Nina. She became pensive.

Hunting accessible mistletoe, gathering greenery, sitting around the kitchen table preparing the vegetables in advance, sharing stories and making mince pies before attending midnight mass; uninterrupted, all this would have become “our Christmas” she mused, “an undeniable truth”. Dressing the tree, home made Christmas pudding, a strict adherence not to focus on presents. Yet none of this was known. It had all ceased years ago and the tradition forgotten; Nina was only one and her brother four when any of this had last happened replaced by a sadder unwelcome rhetoric.

Except for the garlands!

Every year Sophie made advent wreaths using only natural materials but for the ribbon to hang them from. Each one different. A few given to friends, others sold. It was a part of the Christmas theme she could keep in control of. The only variant of this kept tradition was the quantity made. A bad year would yield two or three and a good year fourteen plus. A good year was determined by an absence of sorrow.Making a Christmas pudding and cake with choice ingredients could cost over £40 and more if ground almonds were bought to make marzipan. But for being a perfectionist, a cheap and cheerful solution from Morrissons could have provided a solution. Sophie stopped in her tracks, “There was never a plan B.” she realised.

***

It was a couple of weeks later Sophie bumped into the children’s father and his wife in town. The day was grey. Fortunately, this was a rare sighting occurring less than once in three years. It had always baffled Sophie why he chose to come and live in the town she had made her home whilst electing to have nothing to do with their children. Recalling how he had sent Luke and Nina’s half sister, Odette, to the exclusive school on the hill where Princess Anne had sent her girls, stabbed a bit with the memory.Today he had something to say. It was about Christmas. He wanted to know why the day couldn’t be spent together. It didn’t go down very well. “Why?” asked Sophie, “have you not invited me to any of the many celebrations you’ve had with the children since you re-entered their lives? Why are you asking me to offer this olive branch? We are walking over to you on Christmas Day afternoon! Not this year Stephen, your daughter has never met me. Offer the pipes of peace in the New Year, retract your exclusion policy and perhaps next Christmas we will.” She thought this the end of the matter. It seemed perfectly reasonable.

***

Luke was acutely aware how much his mother was investing in Christmas bonhomie this year. Accepting a job in Italy at the beginning of the summer they had parted company with her reminding him he had an appointment to be home for Christmas. “Even if you are in Australia,” she had said, “I’ll help you with your fare, it’s a twenty four hour affair.” Luke loved his mother dearly. At twenty-three he was recognising the ways of the world and she had always seemed to move heaven and earth to be there for him even when she couldn’t. In fact, Luke returned in early December and came to see his mother for a few days before heading to London until the red-letter day. Before he left, together they had gone to buy a Christmas tree. They brought it home and Sophie drove Luke to the train station, parting with kind words. The evening of the 17th December Luke phoned his mother. During the conversation he enquired whether she had ‘put up’ the tree. “Well, no,” she replied, “I’m waiting for Nina to arrive on Christmas Eve, I thought it was something she’d like to do.” Dialogue between Sophie and her daughter was sparse but this was not unusual. “Nina isn’t coming on Christmas Eve, she’s coming on Christmas morning.” “Why? We have an arrangement. Why has it been altered without telling me and why am I hearing this from you?” “I thought you knew.” A few more words were spoken and the conversation ended.        At 8.00p.m Sophie tried to contact Luke’s sister.  Twenty hours later she had not succeeded.  Alone, she felt despair.  Eventually, Nina texted justifying her absence and how it  wouldn’t matter because she would be there on Christmas Day, that she wanted to please Odette and wake up with her on Christmas morning .                                                                                                       For Sophie this rearrangement of the plan changed it to a visit and was not acceptable.  Stephen was behind this somewhere, operating, manipulating Odette to appeal to Nina. The child was fourteen.  Had it not been reasoned Nina had two families and two Christmases spent consecutively with them meant it was fair for this one to be with her?        Come with goodwill or not at all.  Any objection was too spoiling and compromising wasn’t an option.   Learned harshly, Sophie had come to see compromise was to be without direction.  “It’s thoughtless and careless to act with your own will and not to take into account myself and Luke.”

Cancelled!

Unwilling to force the issue and obtain Nina’s attendance through coercion, Sophie chose instead to cancel the entire arrangement.  Most of all she wanted Nina and Luke to be together and the affair had become a ruined mess.

At 6.20p.m, on the 18th December, Christmas stopped for Sophie, it had become threatening.  Sophie became a shut-in and didn’t leave the house for the next thirty-six hours.  The unopened doors on the Advent calendar remained closed.  On the third day she awoke and dutifully proceeded attending to the postponed Christmas preparations but cancelled the goose order.  Concerned by the cost of the Christmas tree, she drove it to Stephens and left it in the garden.  It felt terribly final; Sophie was giving away her dream.  The act of ditching the tree had a violent reaction on Sophie; the following day she was really ill.  The weather was changeable.  A piercing pain in her head caused her to vomit continuously for twelve hours.  She lay motionless listening to the wind beating the rain upon the house. In heavy heart she came up with a plan to spend the Christmas ache at a retreat, to remove from all secular seasonal activities.

Beloved family cat was being left behind and Luke and Nina volunteered gladly to visit him.

Leaving the house in readiness, before she departed, Sophie lovingly pinned to the mantle piece a sock for each of them with their gifts in.

***

Bad weather was predicted and warnings avoiding travel.  Undeterred Sophie drove through the storm. Heaven seemed hysterical.   The wind roared and a tempest raged.  Night fell.  Driving along roads absent of streetlights, deadly dark restricted visibility beyond the headlights of her car.  Roads that weren’t rivers became floods on lower ground. Sophie proceeded fearlessly.                    Arriving in the deepest starless night, her surroundings remained a mystery cloaked in wild darkness.  Eagerly anticipating the invisible landscape, Sophie was awake to view daybreak gently without urgency reveal where she was and she delighted in all she saw, finding she was nestled safely between a bulging seascape and wild moor.

The landscape supported her and the community was there for her, Sophie gained a little strength and found peace.

Struggling as a single mum she had mostly felt alone and seldom safe; Luke and Nina relied on her but Sophie had often felt overwhelmed.                                                                             Amongst the guests in this haven was a newborn baby only twelve days old.  Sophie had approached the parents and asked if she might hold him.  This was a profound privilege for her. Gently assuming his helplessness, the infant had fallen asleep in Sophie’s  arms.

The big day had passed; there was an air of relief.  Sophie was returning home.

Beloved cat was delighted to see her yet the house felt empty and solitary.  She had left the retreat armed with newfound courage buy entered the house proceeding with caution.

The first thing she noticed were the unclaimed presents on the mantelpiece; her heart sank.  Luke and Nina had not come.  Taking her phone she had left at home Sophie listened to her messages.  One was from Stephen.  Hesitating, she heard it; “ I want the children to see you on Christmas day and stay the night.  I always wanted them to come to me on the 23rd and stay until Christmas day………”. “Of course you did,” she thought, “you’re a narcissist.  Beware of persons who only speak about their wants".  At the retreat she had begun to feel stronger; here at home was deteriorating quickly into fatigue and weariness.  Her head was running away with thoughts.  The   absence of her children’s presence made her swoon.

Sophie fed beloved cat and covering herself with a blanket, lay down for the next twenty-four hours.  A pen and paper beside her, between outbursts of misery she scratched and scribbled.

How very barren seemed the fruits of her womb.  Choked in hatred her daughter felt like a cut flower.  Both children were consumed in Stephen’s world like sheep to the slaughter in his false prosperity.  ‘He rejoices over you with singing.  He quietens you with his love.’  This was far from true.  Sophie longed to lovingly embrace her daughter and ease her hurt.  Stephen would jinx this if he could.  Always stamping on her joy; a relentless campaign endured for years.  This is what he did.  The hope this Christmas held had gone.

Sophie was without hope.  All those years ago before she had left him, taking the decision to provide Luke with a sibling so he wouldn’t be alone and only.  Now it was Sophie who was alone.  “  I am the mistake,” she thought, “and my greatest mistake and only regret is creating flesh with him and wishing he was not their father.  Ceaseless warring over the cribs of their children; how terrible is this?”  Hopeless, Sophie could not see how any good could come of it and fell asleep crying. Three days later she was still alone.

 A week later, a couple walking through the woods found a woman blowing in the wind.  She was hanging from a tree.  Clutched tightly in her hand was a crumpled piece of paper upon which was written;

 

            Darling loved ones

 

            In spirit I can always be with you

 

 

And this poem;

 

                              Warm joy

                             Together with you

                             Painting on canvas

                             My dazzling landscape

                             Morning masterpiece

                             On whose breath they fly

                             Of gentle summer butterfly

                             Incubating slowly

                             Laughing

                             Singing

                             Moaning

                             Meaning we know

                             Happy cry

     

                              All gone

 

                                ***

                            The End