Christmas Memories
“Higher! Mary higher,” children chorused as lifted high in big strong arms she placed the glittering star on the topmost bough of the Christmas tree.
“So, this is Christmas!” she whispered sharing a smile and a memory of Christmas Past with her mother who was putting in the last stitches on her angel costume.
Round-eyed, she’d pressed her nose against the mall’s glass door. It was the season when trees were strung with lights and surrounded with colourful packages and sparkling bells, stars, wreaths and ribbons in gold, silver and red, hung from ceilings and walls. Each time the door slid open, loud music and the gay chatter and laughter of shoppers spilled out. Everybody crowded round Santa for toffees and selfies. The bakery was piled high with gaily wrapped goodies she knew were yummy, for one Christmas a kind lady had given her inguru biscuits shaped like little boys and girls.
Suddenly, she’d felt a rough push and the security guard had yelled, “Go away!” and
she scampered to her mother and clung tightly to her skirt.
“Amma, it’s Naththal!”
she had whispered, “I wish we could also go in there.”
“Those are places only for the rich people, duwa, not for us,” her mother had replied sadly.
A big bus had stopped in front of the mall and out of it scrambled happy-faced, excited boys and girls and aunties and uncles with musical instruments.
As dusk fell, the mall blazed with fairy lights. Mary, lying on her mother’s lap, heard sweet singing.
“Amma, do you hear what I hear, or am I dreaming? Are those the angels who sang to the shepherds? Where are they?” she’d asked peering into the night sky.
“I think it’s the children we saw today, they must be going carolling, singing about the birth of Jesus.”
Settling comfortably into her mother’s lap, Mary had asked, “Amma, how do you know about carollers?”
With a faraway smile her mother had replied, “When I was a child and later a young girl in our village, my friends and I loved to go carolling. We’d go in a bullock cart gaily decorated with balloons which your thathi who was then a young handsome boy, used to drive. We’d go from house to house singing lovely carols and they’d treat us to sweetmeats. Your ‘Loku Mama’ was Santa Claus. Finally, we’d go to David Seeya’s house for a tasty dinner and fun with fireworks.”
Mary had just sleepily remarked, “Amma, what a lovely Christmas memory! All this talk about food has made me very hungry!”
When a little girl and a lady had knelt beside them with a large colourful bag brimful of packages and wished them, “Merry Christmas!” she hadn’t been able to believe her eyes! Thrilled, she’d been busy peeking into the bag and hadn’t listened to the murmurs of the conversation between the lady and her mother but she’d noticed that her mother looked cheerful as they left the bright lights and made their way to their tiny hut.
To her surprise, when she’d awoken the next morning, her mother had packed their few belongings into an old suitcase, and was dressed in not her usual skirt and blouse but in a faded sari and seemed to glow with a secret joy.
“Get dressed, quickly Mary, we have to leave early today.”
“OK Amma, but tell me, what makes you look so beautiful both inside and outside today?”
“I would have told you last night, Mary, but you fell asleep the moment you lay on the mat. Do you remember that aunty who gave us gifts and spoke to me yesterday? Well, she said that their church has a home for poor people like us and we could live there and not beg anymore.”
“Will we be together, Amma?”
“Of course, we will! That’s the first thing I asked them. We’ll be living with mothers and children like us. You’ll go to school with the other children, wear a smart uniform and learn many interesting lessons, play games, enjoy singing, learn to dance and draw and make friends. At the home, you’ll have a huge loving family, a big garden, lots of toys, a TV and … yes,” she said smiling broadly, “they really celebrate Christmas the way it should be celebrated, with love. Doesn’t that make you happy?”
“Yes, very happy, but Amma, what will you do? Do they know that you are blind?”
“Yes, and I’m going to get back my sight. They will pay for the operation. After that, I will be able to help with the chores and as I love to sew, maybe I can earn some money too!”
“OK, I’m ready! What are
we waiting for? Let’s go!”
Mary had chuckled.
Their first Christmas at the home had been warm, welcoming and wonderful. Today, Mary has grown inches taller, a year wiser and her mother, after the operation is a bright-eyed, busy-bee.
This Christmas is going to be even more wonderful as Mary is one of the angel carollers whose voice will ring out tidings of comfort and joy and keep alive the memory of that first Christmas a long time ago in Bethlehem.