CHRISTMAS BACK WHEN.....

 circa 1954

 “The light of the Christmas star to you. The warmth of home and hearth to you. The cheer and goodwill of friends to you. The hope of a child-like heart to you. The joy of a thousand angels to you. The love of the Son and God's peace to you.”
― Sherryl Woods, An O'Brien Family Christmas

Christmas, before my time,  so simple. So quiet. My grandparents  sitting by the fire, with the crooked Christmas tree haphazardly looming behind. Evenings spent with tea and shortbread. And from what I imagine the scent of my grandfather's pipe. My mother telling them to sit "just so". Not to disturb my grandmother, Isabella, who was blind.

 One Christmas, in the late 1940's, my mother and father went to Saskatchewan to spend a few weeks over the holidays. My father  loved the horses. And they him. My mother loved being home for Christmas.

 1959

 My grandfather always looked dapper . Especially in the Christmas photos.  Especially after Isabella died. he always looked his best.My mother would lay out his suit, and press his shirt.

 And then there was the year that it snowed. In Victoria......

 1425 Fairfield Road. Deep in snow. So clean and white. So unusual. 

 My mother told me once that they used to drive the Malahat in some winter weather to go to Campbell River to spend time with friends. It was little more than a rough road. Took them three days.

 But they would do it . To meet up with friends for New Years. Dancing. Dining. Silliness, as my mother would say.

 And those Christmas get togethers with relatives  they didn't know that well. Relatives who stayed. And ate everything in sight.

1959

 But my mother's favourite times were the New Year's Parties where she could get dressed up. She loved beautiful clothes. They would dress to the nines and dance the night away.

 And there was always the Night Before Christmas Story to be read with young nieces who stayed over. The excitement and anticipation of a child's Christmas...

 Then there were the early 60's. I was adopted. At Christmas. My father gave me a Bear. My mother wielded the camera.................

 My dad at Christmas. All those relatives did not visit anymore. The house had a different mood. It was our place at last.

 Packages to open. Tied up with string. I still remember  doing this with him. It is strong in my memory. 

A time when my mother was content to just be. With me.

 And that  Christmas, in the not too distant future,  when we were content to just be. With each other.,,,,,

 “Oh! lovely voices of the sky Which hymned the Saviour's birth,Are ye not singing still on high, Ye that sang, "Peace on earth"?
― Felicia Hemans

2016

Photographs 2019