Precious Memories
It was to be her first Christmas without her boy, but remembering past years could still make her smile
This would be her first Christmas without him. Miranda stared sadly round the room, which was devoid of the chaotic mess that Patrick normally left lying around. It would be strange not having him around.
She thought back to their conversation a few weeks ago, when he’d popped in to visit and tentatively raised the subject.
Mum. Would you mind if I go to Cathy’s parents for Christmas Day this year?
He’d stared at her anxiously.
Knowing how close her son and his girlfriend had become since meeting at university, Miranda smiled brightly, not wanting to let the sudden pain gnawing at her insides show.
“I’m sure you’ll love spending Christmas on a farm. Where is it again?”
“Yorkshire. Her mum makes a big deal of Christmas and always cooks up a storm. Not that you don’t, of course…” He’d added the last bit in quickly.
“Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be fine. Joan will be here like always.”
Joan was their elderly next-door neighbour. Miranda normally invited her round for lunch as she hated to think of anyone being left on their own, and normally the three of them would be laughing uproariously at the terrible cracker jokes.
“Seriously. It will be nice for Cathy to be with her parents. Studying in Bristol, I know you’ve said that she doesn’t get home that often to see them. You’ll have a wonderful time.”
Cathy was a lovely girl. Bright, bubbly and a sense of humour that could set anyone off giggling at the drop of a hat.
Just like Patrick really. As soon as Patrick had introduced them, Miranda had warmed to the girl.
And it hadn’t just been because Cathy had brought her a beautiful bouquet of pink and white carnations. No, Cathy seemed like the right sort of girl for Patrick. Kind, warm-hearted, with a down-to-earth manner that complemented Patrick’s sometimes idealistic ways. The pair of them were well suited. She just hoped that Cathy’s parents were as taken with Patrick.
She was lucky that Patrick was studying closer to home as he often popped in to see her – sometimes bringing home his laundry!
“You go. I’ll miss you like crazy, but we can Facetime, can’t we?”
“Of course, we can. Thanks, Mum.”
So that’s what they’d arranged. She remembered overhearing Patrick’s delighted conversation with Cathy.
Mum’s fine about it. Tell your parents we’ll be there.
His happy face warmed her heart, which felt as if it had momentarily frozen.
A bit like her senses when she’d suddenly lost electricity a few days later. That had been scary, with the lights suddenly going out leaving her well and truly in the dark.
It turned out the heavy rains had damaged the cable leading down her drive. But the electricity company had been brilliant, quickly sending someone out to fix it.
She had panicked about the food in her freezer, but the friendly man who’d arrived like a white knight on a steed – well, except it was a yellow electricity van – had assured her that a freezer could survive 48 hours without electricity as long as the door was kept shut. And her fridge would be fine for six hours, so the Christmas food she’d bought would be OK. She’d kept quiet about the incident, not wanting Patrick to worry.
Lost in thought, Miranda plumped the cushions. Not that they needed plumping. Patrick was such an untidy individual. Always had been. But now the room was as neat as a new pin. Tidy life, tidy mind. Wasn’t that the saying? But much as she liked seeing the house spick and span, in a funny old way, she missed seeing the mess and muddles. They made the house feel more homely.
“You can do what you like now,” Joan had said. “Anyway, he’s only gone to university, not Outer Mongolia!”
“I know. And you’re right.”
Patrick was studying medicine, and she was very proud of him.
It was weird. It had just been the two of them since her divorce seven years earlier. Oh, she’d dated since then, but had never met the right man. Anyway, with a young son to bring up, the timing had never felt right. Patrick was not quite a teenager when the divorce had become a decree absolute.
Not that he’d been an unruly teenager. Quite the opposite. He’d wanted to become the “man of the house”, trying to make sure she was OK. And she was, as she’d kept assuring him.
“I’ve got my receptionist job at the surgery, my book club, and friends. And I’m quite capable of changing a plug or painting a room!”
Her mouth twitched at Patrick’s response. “I know, Mum. But I’m here too and I can help. Anyway, I’ve got to learn.”
And he had, taking to responsibility like a duck to water. Though she made sure he spent time with his mates.
“Friends are important. They keep you grounded,” she’d told him.
Giving a sigh, she adjusted a silver photo frame that held pride of place on one wall. Not that it really needed it. What was it that Patrick used to say? Don’t be picky-picky finicky, Mum! That was it. Always made her grin. But she liked things just so.
Well. Until now. Now she’d give anything to see grubby trainers left around the place and hoodies flung down in careless abandon.
Looking out of the window, she could see the ice crystals still glistening on the grass. The weatherman had said they might have snow. Apparently, it was moving down from up north in some slow weather pattern, but she hoped not.
Not that she didn’t like the white stuff, because she did. But it reminded her too much of winters gone by.
She smiled remembering the times they’d spent frolicking outside; building snowmen, or playfully chucking snowballs at each other. The long walks, where their cheeks would end up as rosy as Santa’s, and the way the frigid air would seep through even their thickest pair of gloves. That’s when they’d troop back inside and she’d make steaming mugs of hot chocolate. She’d swirl the milk foam and spot it with cocoa powder so they both ended up with white moustaches.
Decisively, she turned to the box of Christmas decorations she’d dug out but hadn’t felt in the mood to put up. Today she felt differently. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d be alone for Christmas.
Joan was great company and often accompanied her to the theatre, or the cinema. The two of them would have a lovely time vegging in front of the television watching The Sound Of Music or The Wizard Of Oz. Both films seemed to materialise on the schedules at Christmas like clockwork.
Turning on the radio, Miranda started humming along to the jolly Christmas music, determined to pull herself out of the doldrums. Lovingly she placed the holly wreath on the door, rubbing her arms briskly, her gaze travelling to the heavens. Hopefully the snow would hold off for a few days. At least until she knew Patrick had reached Cathy’s parents’ home safely.
Miranda’s cheeks then turned pink as she wrestled putting the fairy lights around the huge tree; something that Patrick normally did. How had he made it look so easy? Grunting she juggled the wires, grateful that she’d disentangled them the previous evening.
That had been a job in itself as Patrick, in his usual way, had stripped the tree bare and flung the lights into the box last year. She remembered cursing him.
“Don’t worry, Mum. It will be fine,” he’d said airily.
“Yeah, right. Well, you’re untangling those next year,” she’d said darkly.
With him not around, the job fell to her. It had taken her nearly the length of an episode of EastEnders to do it.
Standing back, hands on hips, she felt pleased surveying her handiwork. Next came the best bit. Placing each precious decoration onto the sweet pine-smelling branches. As a carol started being played on the radio she sang along. Hark The Herald Angels Sing…
Every small piece she placed carefully, remembering precious memories of times gone by. A crazily decorated Christmas pudding that Patrick had taken upon himself to make one year out of felt, with a red button as its centrepiece. He must have been about nine or ten. A snowman, with a cotton wool body and black felt hat. And a robin, as it reminded him of the one that he’d carefully rescued when it looked as though it had broken a wing. It had survived with tender loving care. Seeing a sparkly robin in a shop window a few weeks later she’d bought it. Patrick’s face had lit up with joy. Especially as he’d been upset when the robin had flown off, wing all mended.
“That’s the way nature intended,” she’d said. “What you love, you need to set free. If it means anything, then it will come flying back to you.”
He’d taken those words to heart, and soon enough had spied his robin sitting atop their wooden fence.
“There he is, Mum. He’s come back to say thank you.”
Hanging the star at the top of the tree, Miranda realised she had to take her own advice. After all, children were only ever really on loan. Parents were like caretakers, helping them find their way.
Patrick had certainly found his. Maybe mending that robin’s wing had set him on the start to healing and helping others?
Looking at the now decorated tree, the twinkling fairy lights seemed to shine an inner strength of hope and positivity. Hearing her mobile and seeing it was Patrick, she smiled. She’d take a photo of it after their call to show him.
“Mum… I know it’s short notice, but is there any chance that me and Cathy can come to you for Christmas? You remember her parents live on a farm? Well, they’re snowed in so we can’t get there. Thankfully they’re fine for food and stuff as her mum has loads in the freezer.”
Miranda’s face lit up. “Of course. I’ve got a turkey for me and Joan anyway. When are you two likely to arrive? I’ll make sure I’ve got the kettle on.”
“Umm… tomorrow? Two-ish?”
Momentary panic hit her as she wondered if she’d have enough food, before she gave a shrug. Heck. She’d make it enough. After all, the more the merrier round the Christmas table. And she could always send Patrick out to get last minute bits like always. She grinned remembering how he used to grumble!
See you then, love.
She’d be able to tell Patrick in person that she was dating again. There had been a definite spark of attraction between her and the man who’d arrived to sort out her electricity. It was early days, but the future was looking brighter.
What a turnaround. It felt as if Christmas had come early. It was the time of year to bring festive surprises, and she’d received the best one of all. Her chick was returning to the nest for Christmas. What better present could she have than that?
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