Another Christmas

I can feel another Christmas coming, with quick steps full of joy and jingle... I can see it approaching in the decorations that appear everywhere like flowers in the spring sun... I can feel it coming, and my soul lifts in joy... I remember the Christmases that passed, sweet days of my far away childhood, and I smile when the smells of another world surround me. The sweet, fresh smell of a real pine tree on a cold winter night, my mother's cooking, a symphony of flavour... I can hear the simple, uncomplicated laughter of the children we once were... The adult in me smiles and looks forward to recreating the magic...

With my children, I take out of a neat box the big, green pine tree we use every year and I long for the perfume of a real one, with little green needles pricking my fingers... Out of more boxes, we take out the new decorations we had just bought to make some imaginary colour scheme and from the iPod dock, carols in a language that sings not to my soul spill into the room combined with my children's laughter... Hanging the decorations in the tree, plastic globes instead of the fragile glass ones of my childhood, however, is it so similar that if I close my eyes, I can hear my parents and my siblings in those far away years...

With the tree decorated, taking advantage of the long daylight of the Australian summer, my children go off to play outside, and left home alone, I change the playlist on the iPod to another, still carols, but in a language that comes from my blood and I sit there, on the floor, looking at the blinking lights in the tree, and at fist I smile... For few seconds, I can keep up the illusion of being home...

I look out of the window at the colourful birds playing on my flowering balcony and further still at the green bush and the deep blue sky of summer and the sweet illusion shatters leaving me frozen... I am not home... There is no winter night with snowflakes falling in a mad ballet from the sky, there is no boiled wine with sugar and spices, no fire roaring wildly under terracotta tiles... No children singing carols at the gate... No family...

The longing squeezes my heart painfully, so painfully I can hardly even breathe and a sad, lonely tear falls on my cheek... With quick, pounding steps, guilt follows longing... Locked in a world on the other side of the planet, I am depriving my parents of having their only grandchildren around the Christmas tree, I am depriving my siblings of having their nieces... I am depriving my children of their family and their traditions... Guilt hammers at my heart and it melts again in longing...

I have friends... On Christmas Eve I shall have countless presents under the tree, a house full of friends and a table full of those dishes that on the other side of the planet my mother would be cooking... Same perfumes, same flavours, same laughter floating around my house... But I wont have my parents and my siblings... I wont have children singing carols at the door and snow falling in front of my windows...

In my blood, I will feel the bitter cold of a winter's night and the painful wind that calls me from afar... In my heart I will feel the longing for my singing language...

I sit there on the floor, watching our blinking tree, listening to the carols of my land, and the tears start falling down my face, a bitter river of regret and longing...

Will I ever get used to a Christmas in summer? Will I ever get used to Christmas without my parents and my siblings? Without my language flowing around the table? One would think so. I have spent a third of my life in Australia now... It is home now, this country I had made my own... But at Christmas, my blood calls and my heart longs for... my own...

Family

As life runs by in a mad rush, there are moments when you forget, when you stop thinking, and it is easier somehow... Stolen by life and separated my many ocean miles, you forget what it means to have a family around.

Because there is no other choice, if you want to keep going day after day, you turn the key on the memory box that contains all the shared laughter and moments of joy, all the touching smiles of true belonging, all those arguments, all the years that passed by when you could be simply fully accepted just for being you. You forget, or try to forget what it means to not have to prove yourself every moment of the day, what it means not to be judged and what it means to be loved for the simple fact that you are there, part of an unity.

There are days, like birthdays and holidays, when you remember the unity that once existed, and your heart squeezes painfully, and you turn the key harder, not to let the memories fly, because it is too hard to live in what it was and is no more, in what it could have been only if...

And sometimes, across the years and across the seas, you get the incredible chance to hold tight that which once you had. You remember that one night from long ago when you sat under the lit Christmas tree with your brother, talking and dreaming of the future... You remember the snow ball fights and the laughter... You remember fighting with your sister for clothes and your mother's cooking... You remember those days when you locked horns with your father for the simple because you were a teenager... The Sunday meals... So many memories of family...

When you are young, too busy looking towards the future, you rarely appreciate the love and the trust, the acceptance and friendship that hold a family together. And then, life takes you away, and you see each other rarely, for short periods of time. You wait on a busy airport with your heart beating faster with each second that passes, with a smile of happiness and anticipation on your lips, until you see your sister or your brother, your mother or your father. Years fly away, and as you throw yourself in their arms, holding them tight, you are a child again, life and distance forgotten.

Together, every second maters, every minute is held tight in the memory to last forever, every hour is filled. With laughter, you remember the fights you had as a child, you remember the times of bonding. After years of having real time together, you look one at another, and your eyes can not move away. Some things changed, as you had changed from the child you once were, and yet others remain the same, despite the passage of time. The teasing and the jokes, the comfort, the love and support.

And all too soon the day comes when you drive back towards the same airport, with your heart squeezed painfully for another good bye. Recent and old memories fly through your mind. You try to prolong the moment, to hold tight for one more hug and one more kiss, for on more photo that is biter sweet. You try to say good bye quickly because you know that the tears will start falling...

For a while, you had your family, or a member of your family close again, and you remembered what it means to be part of that unique unity again. The simple trust you have with the people of your blood, the belonging, the roots, the love... You remember that you are not alone, but part of a greater whole, and your soul longs for it, longs even more when the seconds are more precious then diamonds...

You go back towards you home, towards the life you live day after day, and you feel empty and lost... The house and the streets are full of ghostly memories, your home feels as empty as a desert and you long even more for the oasis of the family, never knowing when you will have the chance to be together again, and being grateful for every second you had, appreciating that unity even more so, because it is missing again...

And when your child wakes up in the middle of the night, whispering sadly that they are missing their uncle or aunt, their grandmother or grandfather, when your child looks around and says that the house is empty and they feel as lost as you do, you feel like howling...

Parenting

My oldest daughter, little miss 9, went to her first camp for a week. She was a little bit nervous and very excited. I am happy and proud of her, but a little part of me is sad. My baby girl is growing into a little lady and with each passing month her wings are extending further and further, preparing her for the day when she will just fully fly towards life. There is pride in seeing my daughter grow, but there is also sadness, for these years, when she is still a child are flying by too fast.

I guess that from now on I will end standing by, watching her travel on her own road more and more, waving to her and praying for her safety, knowing that I will always await her return... And there will always be those questions that only the passing of years can answer. Have I done a god enough job teaching her the necessary skills to navigate the twisted roads of life? Have I taught her all that she needs to know in order to grow into a decent, kind, loving, independent, strong adult? Did I teach her how to be happy and how to stay safe? Only time will answer.

But waiving at her, watching her take these steps towards independence and self awareness, watching her grow more and more into her own person, apart from me, fills me with pride, and in the same time with sadness and fear. Fear for her safety, fear of not having taught her the skills she needs, and sadness because I am losing my baby for this little beautiful miniature lady that fills my heart with pride.

In a way, it was easier when they were just tiny little babies that only needed love and care and cleaning. Yes, the sleepless nights were torture, teething a feverish nightmare, and at the time I thought that things could not get much harder. But looking back, it was simple and easy. Or at least, easier then the many questions that plague me as they grow. How much freedom to give them and in what conditions? How much information is the right amount? How to teach them to be independent while making sure they stay safe? When to say yes and when to say no? As they grow more and more into miniature adults, there are so many shades and so many nuances, so many twisting paths that need to be navigated by them, but also by you, as a parent. And it is scary.

It gets harder and harder to stand by and watch them growing and making mistakes, knowing they will inevitably get hurt and there is only so little you, as the parent can do. Yes, you can be there with advice, if and when it is required, with love even when it is not wanted and a shoulder for when it is needed, knowing that you can never fully shelter them, that you can't fix everything for them. And knowing that some things they need to learn for themselves, that they need to make mistakes in order to grow, it only makes it more confusing. If you as a parent shelter them too much and lift every weight of their tiny shoulders, they will never grow into the independent, responsible adults they need to grow into for their own wellbeing. But on the other hand, it makes your heart bleed to see they crying because a friend hurt them, or because they ran too fast and their knees are bleeding. Yes, you know that they absolutely need to learn to deal with the friend that hurt them, you know that you will not be able to be there to shout warnings, but it still makes your heart bleed. And when they start walking on their own road, flying in their own skies, your heart is squeezed tight by pried and by fear.

My mother told me once, when I was crying to her after three nights with no sleep when my daughter was couple of months old, that small children mean small problems and big children mean big problems. I did not understand it then, and part of me thought that it can not get any worse. But now, when the sleepless nights because of a baby's cry are a memory, there are other things, other worries that keep me up at night, the problems are more complex, the roles more blurry, and with every year passing it gets harder to figure out what is the right thing for them, the children that are growing. Oh, there is an amazing beauty in it, in seeing them extending their wings, but the needs are different and less clearly marked, and as a parent you can not wonder if you manage to have the wisdom necessary, the forward thinking and the ability to really see how every little thing might develop into something else. And there is so much pride for them when under your eyes they learn how to navigate pot holes and they start being little wise people! Your heart melts and squeezes, grows and beats faster, with a love that keeps growing as they grow themselves.

As my daughter grows towards her teenage years, and later towards an adult, I find myself second guessing my every move more and more, even as I am more and more proud of her. And it also makes me look at my own parents with a new understanding of the fears they must have had, of the journey they took to bring us up into the grown ups that we are, and it makes me respect more the sacrifices they made, day after day, so quietly that I never really saw it until I had become a parent myself.