As we prepare for the end of November and plunge into all things festive, I pause.
Pause to remember her.
I cannot forget her.
I have an artificial tree, something that would make her turn over in her grave.
But this holiday season does nothing more than remind me of her.
The way she wrapped fresh evergreen garlands with dots of red holly berries round the wooden staircase of my childhood home.
The way she insisted on white lights only on the mantle and real tree.
The way she cooked and baked her way to happiness for our family, which also provided the same to us.
The way my oldest sister woke me up late one evening when I was small during the holidays to decorate the tree together with her.
The music.
The singing.
Her ambiance.
Her everything.
So many memories.
I can only hope to provide the same power of memory to my child who also loves all things Christmas.
Memories are so important.
Create new ones.
Each and every day.
For they will sustain you in the future.
Like the dots of ink that rest upon paper to form photographs.
Which in turn
preserve those memories.
blaak sheep 