There are always memories or more correctly bits of memories that we
retain with us for all our lives. Memories that in some way have meant
so much to us that they stick while others fade. This for me is
especially true of Christmas. Christmas with my Mom and Dad and my
three sisters and two brothers in Australia during the Sixties and
early Seventies.
Mom and Dad always made Christmas special, either through the
decorations, which were always up earlier than anyone elses, or the
most wonderful, warm christmas mornings that I will always take as the
yardstick by which I judge my own meager attempts at celebrating this
special time of year. Remember that these memories are in Aussie and
if anyone knows what it is like there, you will know that it is certainly
not what we would call 'Christmassy'.
One Christmas Day which has a special meaning to me was what I like to
call 'The Bike Year'.
As usual we had all been waiting for the hols to arrive. Hols meant
the end of school and, most importantly, the Big Guy was due his visit.
I had been dreaming of having a bike for months and Trev, my older brother,
was the same. When we were talking, (not arguing that is, which was
more normal) he had spoken often about getting a bike for Christmas.
I have a feeling he may have known something that I didn't. We both knew
it was a tough one. Of course we knew the Big Man was just a story,
all our friends had told us so and anyway how do you get a bike in the
sack for heaven's sake? But, being who I was, I never gave up hope.
So anyway the morning arrived:-
I looked out from underneath my sheet, (the weather being so warm that
was all I needed over me. Except for my jammies, of course) and looked out of
the window in our 'boys' room. I had to look over Trev who was in the single
bed, under the window. He was still sleeping (I think) but I couldn't
see a thing, it was still too dark.
Youngest brother, Ray, was in the bunk above me making his usual snoring
noises. (He usaully got a kick from underneath but I was in a generous
mood, being Christmas and all).
The dawn seemed to take forever to arrive and once or twice I got my
courage together and got out of bed and crept to the door. Still not
light enough for me to dare to go out into the hallway and down to
THE ROOM! I would dart back to my bed. Anyway, slowly the
light arrived so that I could see enough to make out Trevors bump
under his sheet. All the shadows changed from my worst nightmares
to curtains, clothes and shoes left scattered on the floor and that
door that during the night had floated like some horrid apparition,
waiting for me to dare to move looked, innocently enough, like a door.
(Which just shows how the thought of presents can over come any fear!)
Now for my next problem how to bring life to the lump, that was my
brother, in the next bed. First I
tried whispering very quietly. Then whispered a bit loader. finally I got out
of bed and shook him hard, racing back so as to leave no evidence of the crime.
He must have been awake because as usaul he told me off and said that
it was too dark to get up and such silly talk like that. But he was
awake so my courage returned and I got up. Strangely so did he without
too much argument as well. (He was the big brother so he had to pretend to
do as Dad said. At least while I was around.) Ray was awake too by
then so he
got up with us. More correctly, down. We three boys crept into the
hallway. We looked around and could make out the door to the loungeroom.
We were making our way to it when who should appear but our Mom from her
bedroom with Dad close behind her. He had that look. That sparkle in
his eye that spoke of knowing something that would bring hoots from us
and wonder into our lives. "Go on then, go in but don't touch anything
untill we are all up and I have made a cup of tea for everybody".
The girls were coming out of their rooms, rubbing their eyes and
pretending they had just woken up. They didn't fool me!
We went in and turned on the light. At first the bike didn't register
with me. Trev saw it straight away though. He went up to it and
stared and stared at it. Then I saw it and my mouth dropped wide open,
a gasp was all I could manage. How did they know that it was all that
I had ever wanted. They must have read my mind, (which was quite a
worry!) The bike was second hand but Mom and Dad had done a lot of
work on it. It didn't matter, it was the most beautiful thing I had
ever seen in my life.
We Spent the morning learning to ride it and arguing on whose turn it
was. It was one of the happiest Christmas' I can remember.
It has always amazed me how Mom and Dad did it. There were six of us
kids and no one could every accuse us of being well to do, but every
year they managed to buy us loads of wonderful things. Having said
that, it is not the wonderful gifts I will remember but the magical
atmosphere that they created around our house. And the knowledge that
we were all loved so very much. It is so hard to describe that warmth
and that look in Dad and Moms eyes as we opened our presents. It was
a time when we felt safe and everything was fun. It was also so very
short. Before we hardly knew it, we were in our own homes with our own
families, trying to reproduce what Mom and Dad made to look so easy.
Desmond Harvey
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