PRESENT TIME
I’m sure many of us are thinking of Christmas past or other seasonal memories. So easy to think “This time last year…” and maybe even wish we had treasured it a bit more. And aren’t the things we remember not the gifts or special outfit we treated ourselves to, but rather the hugs and kisses, the laughter at table, the crowds standing cheek by jowl listening to street musicians, the wonder on children’s faces as they met Santa, or watched trees and decorations light up?This year most of us are, or should be, in lockdown and even though we try to convince ourselves that it’s just for this year, or it’s just a couple of days like any other, still we feel some sadness. We all were hoping we’d be let out for Christmas and New Year, especially those of us who obeyed the rules. It seemed only fair after all these months of missed graduations, bat mitzvahs, weddings, birthdays, anniversaries, parades, funerals and christenings that we should have a couple of days of celebration.
After many years, several lawyers, countless emails and no small amount of money, my daughter became a British Citizen on Wednesday. What should have been a joyous ceremony shared by both of us instead was a Zoom swearing-in lasting a couple of minutes and the official holding up the certificate for my girl to see. And that was it. She FaceTime-ed me immediately after said “ceremony” and we shed a few tears together, feeling not only the 4000 + miles separating us, but the journey it took to get to that moment. As an adoptee myself and with my daughter not having children we are a sort of island with no past and no future. So her claiming her English heritage felt like a missing link was now found, completing the circle of our two lives.
I think we all feel like islands these days; the past forever gone, the future unknown, the present never-ending. Maybe this could be one of the gifts of the pandemic in that we are experiencing being in the present like never before. After years of speeding up via the onslaught of technology and consumerism, many of us felt breathless. (How ironic that a virus should come at this moment in history that leaves so many literally breathless.) Who of us over a certain age didn’t long to slow down, to live more in the moment?We have had weeks of mist here in our valley and although the sun might appear by afternoon the mornings are dense with fog, the landscape almost disappeared. I love the moment when it begins to evaporate, just a little, enough to begin to see or feel the presence of familiar hills and trees. It seems to me a metaphor for life during this time; all of us feeling our way around in the viral laden atmosphere, familiarity barely visible, everything just out of reach. Yet those of us who have so far survived, we are still here. We are all present in the present and that is our Yuletide present this year. We may not be able to see each other, but we are still here.
On this, the shortest day of the year, perhaps we can take a moment to celebrate the night; to stand outside and look up at the stars. All that light, illuminating the vast unknown.
I am thinking of you all, whatever your faith, your dreams, whether you are alone or partnered, I feel you all and send you love.
PS. I meant to sent this link at the beginning of December. To those of you who read it, I’d love to know what you think.
https://literaryconsultancy.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/Maggie-Barrett-Showcase.pdf
