FATHER CHRISTMAS

No, not ready,  not this Christmas  day, give me a place to hide away.  Christmas,  its roots carved out of religion, with family at the heart  and etched in tradition

From childhood memories of excitement and wonder, tipping downstairs, skipping steps with my brothers..

‘He’s been, he’s been’, we’d exclaim with such joy, unwrapping and passing the games and new toys.

And mum would be there, a smile on her face, excited for us as we danced and embraced, eachother, our gifts,  scalextrix and dolls and dad would come in and join in the fun 

The house, it was happy on each Christmas  morn,  and father Christmas so brilliant for bringing such fun.

And mum would be busy preparing our feast, the kitchen awash with all sorts of treats…. the turkey the stuffing, she’d make it from scratch, the tastes and the flavours could never be matched.

We’d sit round the table, a family of 5…grateful and thankful what the lord had provided.  

The choir hymns  still ringing from the midnight  mass, and i’d sit in pure wonder at all that we had

For santa, he was, the father of christmas for sure, bringing peace and good will to our family’s door.

Back then we were ignorant to the true full facts, that Christmas wouldnt happen without mum and dad.

What happiness they brought with sacrifices made and now how I’ll miss  them on this Christmas day

So no, not now, not ready just yet, I’ll leave santa to the chrildren, so they wont forget, the joy and the treasure and the gift of it all the christmas, the magic, so they can recall

How special and awesome their own mothers are, allowing father christmas to capture their their sweet precious hearts.

For the mothers and fathers gone home to the lord, we’ll love you and miss you on this christmas morn…..