Happy 1st

No one lives forever. Imminently our life essence escapes like a fleeting wisp of air with no warning, or justification.My beloved Aunty Stella was too beautiful for this world.

We had our own Christmas tradition

On 26th December I would call and wish her a happy birthday, she’d ask me about school (she passed away 5 months to my graduation), when I’m coming to visit. Then, we’d talk about her husband, and the girls.

Except last year, I broke that tradition. I don’t know what I was confronted with, or if I simply waved it away and thought, ” there’s always next year.”

How naive!

I and my cousins were never particularly close, but it doesn’t take a psychoanalyst to tell that the source of their holiday delight is around no longer, kinda like the Inn-keeper’s son.

For them, every Christmas tree is a reminder that theirs is still boxed in the garage. That no gifts were under it signed by Santa aka mom—even though all of her daughters are in their mid-late 20s. No matching pyjamas. No holiday crackers on the dinner table, or a game like caricature drawing after the meal. And no celebration of her 56th the day after Christmas.

But today I celebrate her life, her family and the joy she brought to mine.

Today is my Aunty’s Stella’s first Birthday in Heaven.

Thank you for reading, and best wishes this festive season 🙂

happy 1st
happy first

The Inn-keeper

Fellow Bloggers and beloved readers, I want to wish you all a merry Christmas and briefly thank you for what an awesome year this turned out to be.

While the story that I am inspired to post is not your traditional magical Christmas story, I hope you’ll enjoy it still. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll explain why.

For now, merry Christmas and a big Thank you to you all


She worked from dusk to dawn, Monday to Sunday, January to December.

She was the host of the best Inn in Calbury. From the moment she could a hold a broom, she was destined a care-taker to be. The whole town, young and old, sick and healthy, rich and poor found shelter in the inn .

Her rooms were neat and cozy. From basement to attic. It had beautiful ornaments and an aura of love. The best room there was Garrett, man could discover the entire city; night lights, river and Calbury’s castle.

Guests came from far and wide, willing to pay millions to lodge in garrett, yet the Inn-keeper never gave out the room. The key stayed around her neck, like a precious stone, or something far valuable

The inn-keeper would visit the room, twice in a year, On New year and Christmas day.

The inn-keeper was once a vibrant woman, her son was her companion and peace. She spent every waking minute with him, and he loved the inn as much as she. Garrett was his favourite room too. He’d stay there whenever it had no occupant.

Then one day, a grave tragedy occurred. He’d seen the giant Christmas tree light up in the city square on Christmas eve but wanted to watch the fireworks too, not confined behind the room’s window, so he climbed out the window and sat on the roof. When the fire works was over, 2 hours past midnight, the boy hurried down from the roof to wish all a merry Christmas, but his foot slipped on icy snow and down he fell, 6 meters hitting the hard cobble-stone below.

The devastated Inn-keeper trod the heavy snowfall, the clinic was closed, she had to visit the Doctor’s home.

“Leave me alone, it’s a holiday! if he’s meant to, he’ll wake up soon”

Then she took him to the priest so he could pray for her sleeping son.

New year’s day was the day the doctor told her there was no way to save the boy. So she took him to the garrett room, swaddled him tight and lit some candles as he slept.

No day was ever the same for the Inn-keeper without her son. She toiled day and night, January to December to cater to other’s need and readily love them. Except for those few hours on Christmas and New year’s day, she never took a break, not even for lunch.

Yes, no price could be placed where her precious boy laid in rest, even till this very day.

The Christmas Magic

Sitting beside a warm furnace, trying to figure out what to write today. This is a tad out of my comfort zone as I didn’t grow up with holiday cheer and presents. And so for the past few days, I have been binging on movies as a desperate attempt to catch a whiff of the holiday fever.

Let’s see if I’ve been been able to understand this nordic tradition.

For some people, Christmas is about the gingerbread cookies, and marzipan. I especially love chestnuts. For some, it’s about the smell of fried rice and fish soup (or whatever the traditional food is in your region), as they share a very special meal with loved ones.

My favourite moment is the special look on people’s faces when they unwrap a gift from me. Right now, I am enjoying this moment with my sister and my Fiance’s family.

I suppose I have caught the symptoms of festivity; feel warm, loved and happy.

I wrote a little poetry, nothing fancy or especially good but it’s something to commemorate the season.

And it looks nothing like Christmas

Even as the wind blows steady

the sun reminds us that he’s in charge

only sight of snow is up the mountains.

Boys and girls close their eyes

and red bell glisten like fiery crystal

Gingerbread sprinkled with Cinnamon and frosting

sturdy pine trees rise towards formidable clouds.

There is magic all the way

It’s a blizzard out there

raining ice and what not

There’s no better feeling a warm furnace in a cozy home.

Shine baby Jesus shine

shimmy the night away on silver ice

A star paves the way, and you glow

even when the world slows done.

The bell of the catholic church chimes 12:00

Oh look, a shadow behind the chimney

perhaps it’s dasher, prancer and dancer

following the compass home to the North pole.

Leave chestnut roasting at the fire

or Gandalf chewing in a Christmas stocking

On Christmas night one things for sure

I’ll hug you as tight as a resplendent gift.

And as the last bite of marzipan disappears

The last candle blows in the wind

the last story is being told

to boys and girls all over the world.

And thus the story goes

twas the night before Christmas

the greatest magic is revealed to all

sharing love and peace both nigh and beyond.

The House Dragon

 

Twas the night before Christmas

Throughout the city,

not a creature was stirring

All was still and quaint

well, except at Emily’s house.

Emily was my neighbor,

I know not how true her tale is,

but she swears it unfolded right before her.

 

Yesterday,

Emily was cycling on the open road,

Yesterday,

She was feeling optimistic, it was infrequent

Christmas was in two days.

Running errands for her mum

She paddled her bike

whilst humming the first noel

and watched the sun play hide and seek

earphones in, noise out.

Out of nowhere,

Emily hit the brakes a second too late

and the bike was destabilized

which left her tumbling on  the snowy path

She hobbled to the morass

despite her sprained ankle,

to find the cause of her downfall.

Her frown melted away

at the sight of a Dachshund

behind the grass.

She played with it

and hobbled right back home

leaving her bike behind.

 

Her mum gasped at the sight of her daughter.

“Dear God, did you have to duel for the paprika?”

“Nevermind my ruffled sweater mama, I found me a furry creeter.”

You should return it,” mama said

“But mama, Dr. Jeremy says I need a friend”

so her mum gave in.

 

Christmas Eve,

Emily made a wish

and cuddled her puppy

til’ sleep took her away.

when her lids came apart,

she was drowning in sweat

similar to the night terrors

Dr. Jeremy urges her to subdue

She clutched her bosom

and searched even the nooks

to find her dog

but instead, she found

the Christmas tree had fallen

the gifts, smoldered with fire.

littered on the floor were ornaments,

and mama’s chicken pot pie.

A horrid, vile dragon rested peacefully

 

Her marble eyes lit up,

“my Christmas wish has come true.”