Page 106 of One More Day
My dad said it was good to have me home.
I think that might be the best Christmas present ever.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Charlie
Helena has sent me at least ten photos so far this morning, all selfies, and all in various Christmas accessories such as Santa hats, elf hats, hairbands with stars and glitter – all of which did make me laugh out loud.
And then came her string of usual jokes by text message.
What do snowmen eat for breakfast? Ice Crispies!
What do you call Santa’s favourite singer? Elfis!
It’s just gone ten on Christmas morning and the world is very still and quiet, in a way I’ve never noticed before. Usually by this time, I’m swamped on the living room floor with Rebecca, buried in torn-up wrapping paper, trying to figure out what batteries fit which toy, and the whole universe is reduced in between the four walls of our existence.
But this year is a first year like no other. There’s no flurried gift unwrapping, there’s no tidying to be done, there’s no fuss to be made. It’s just me, Max and the silence of the snow-covered streets.
As soon as I woke up this morning after texting Rose, I made my way over to St Anne’s cathedral and listened to the bell toll from the comfort of the car as Max bounced around in the backseat, still looking for George everywhere we go.
There was a comfort in the silence and then the sound of the bell. I savoured the quiet of the city on this peaceful Christmas morning. I took a moment to let everything pause, to stop doing, and to justbe.
I thought of my parents, gone well before their time after cancer stole their future, and how although they were far from perfect, they did what they could to give my sister and me a good life.
I thought of each of my clients, many of whom are dreading Christmas just like I was, but for different reasons.
I thought of Clodagh and Rob with my darling Rebecca in Tenerife, who will today witness Christmas in the sun for the very first time. From my heart I wished them well, which is something I didn’t ever think I would be able to do.
I thought of Rusty and Marion who were hanging on to their marriage by a thread but who now seem to have found a new lease of life, and I hoped they would enjoy the hamper I left on their doorstep before I went off yesterday. Maybe they’d even enjoy it together? I deliberately chose one of each item for the hamper: a bottle of wine, a block of smoked cheese, a pack of crackers, some grapes and a jar of chutney, and in my mind, I visualised them taking the quiet of today to have some long overdue conversations. Communication is key in any relationship, so who knows, maybe this and a fewdays off work might kick-start a conversation that’s much needed between them.
I thought of Helena, my only sibling, my big sister who lives in a totally different realm of pure innocence and love. I only hope that I can keep on doing what’s best for her, no matter what else life throws our way.
And I thought of Rose who would wake up this morning with her parents, in the one place she really longed to be this Christmas, surrounded by love and laughter at last. I hope she cherishes this morning with her family, and that she can now find peace in her heart. She deserves it all.
‘And then there’s you, my buddy,’ I say to young Max, who probably doesn’t realise what day it is. ‘I’ve a huge, delicious bone for you to enjoy later today. You’ll love that, won’t you?’
He whimpers.
‘Ah, you miss George,’ I reply. ‘I miss him too. But don’t worry. We’re going to have a lovely day, I promise. It’s going to be special, just wait and see.’
So far, it’s been a very slow, quiet Christmas morning, but I know it’s going to be exactly what I’d hoped for. There’s a strange, unexpected comfort in the stillness I’ve been lucky enough to experience all morning.
I’ve taken this chance to reset, to harmonise and to embrace all the clarity that comes with the art of doing nothing. I haven’t felt lonely at all, because I know now what is important to me and what’s not. I’ve learned to separate the nonsense from the core of my own being. I know now what I want and what I don’t want. I know my who, and I know my why.
Rebecca called me first thing to show me her presents, which lifted my spirits immensely. Seeing her little face on a screen, so full of magic and childhood innocence, was a nice surprise.
‘FaceTime me later, Daddy!’ she squealed. ‘Let me see what your dinner is like. I’ll show you mine too, OK?’
‘Of course, honey, just send me photos anytime you feel like it. I’d love to see every moment of your wonderful day.’
Even Clodagh couldn’t pull against the joy of that phone call. It was all I ever wanted. My child and I had time and we had a laugh together on Christmas Day. It was never too much to ask in the first place, was it?
It’s toasty in the car where I sit now, and there’s something so peaceful about how quiet everything is around me.
Curtains are still drawn in many homes scattered along the street where I’m parked; some lights are on even though it’s bright and snowy outside. There’s life bursting at the seams behind all the closed doors, and I’m about to interrupt what’s going on in one of the houses, I imagine for the best.
So, I do what I came here for. I pull on my woolly hat and get out of the car. I pick up the phone and dial her number, watching outside for the curtains to twitch when she takes my call.
