Motionless, as if time had stood still, that moment when the dreaded question that had been successfully avoided for many months was now approaching.
“Brrr,” Myra grumbled, “The air is sharp today.”
She stood shivering anxiously, waiting in anticipation, hoping her efforts would deliver some relief from the anguish she was facing.
The ground was covered in deep snow, varying across the open space like flour awaiting a baker’s hand. A few feet away sat an ageing wall with dark brown rocks carefully placed together like words in search of song. There amongst the uneven surface rests dusts of snow and fragments of ice. Small patches of moss give evidence of its beating heart and life. The sky is clear grey in the distance, where the mountains spread beyond the trees.
“What are you two doing for Christmas?” asked Preeti, “Shall we all go out together? A party perhaps, I can have a ring around.” Preeti loved to spend time with others, falling in and out of love, clumsily flopping her way through life. She could be very entertaining, that is when life went her way. Although there had been many occasions when good intentions turned into difficulty and with that came chaos.
“Partying is for the young and privileged,” replied Myra. “Something we are not! Besides I’m working, I may have to put in extra hours this year.”
“You work every year, even I know that,” remarked Barnabas, as he hopped about the snow. He was the worlds best friend, always willing to help out where her can. Generous in nature with very little by way of possessions, having become accustomed to being poor, he had little need.
“Work, work, work, Christmas is a time of goodwill; friends and family, not a time to work” said Preeti.
There it was, she had said it, ‘family,’ the one thing Myra longed for the most. She had lost her mother at an early age and had struggled to accept her father’s new bride. The evil Ice Queen she would call her. One day there was an awful disagreement, Myra turned to her father for support but he did nothing. Feeling excluded and turned away she ran away vowing never to return. Many years had passed and there had been no contact. On special occasions like birthdays and Christmas she would deliberately make herself unavailable not wanting to expose the real emptiness of her existence.
“I know,” said Barnabas, “Lets visit your home town Myra, I’ve always wanted to see where you come from, and well, I sense that this might be something you may like to do too. We can all travel down together.”
“Yes an adventure,” cried Preeti.
There was a slight pause. Myra lowered her head, pulled her arms in and rolled her fingers towards her. “OK” she whispered, “Lets go.”
This was an unexpected change. Both Barnabas and Preeti were expecting an assertive NO!
Grasping the opportunity before any doubt could seep in, Preeti led the way through the forest. Crunch, crumble, crackle the three wise men begun their journey into the night.
Some days later buried deep beyond the trees, a subtle glow of light appeared fading in and out in the distance. Just beyond a grey weathered fence sat a beautiful wooden cottage. A small collection of Christmas lights was dressed over the banisters, where three steps lay leading to the front door. A shovel rested against the exterior. The snow had been cleared, interrupted, unsettled.
Myra’s eyes begun to deepen, slowly submerging in despair “I can’t do it,” she had come face to face with her longing and it had crippled her. She was numb with fear, static as a snowman. Dressed in optimism, a bright rainbow scarf and wishful hat, it was now up to Preeti and Barnabas to encourage her to continue.
Like snowflakes of hope; their words of encouragement glistened through the dark reality and pain of their friend. As if wolves where howling and reaching forward through what felt like a blustery gale, they made their way to a corner window where they dared to look through.
The living room was filled with decorations, tinsel, presents under the Christmas tree. An open log fire, mistletoe and a small plate of mince pies on the long wooden table. There was something artificial about it. It felt cold and harsh, distant and empty.
A gust of wind came across them with malicious intent. This was not the home Myra was longing; the surrounding bare trees seemed isolated and lost.
Preeti pushed herself up against Myra dishevelling her fur. With all her heart she projected all the warmth she could muster in the hope that this would go some way to sustaining her dear friend.
“Shall we go?” asked Barnabas, who had found a way to nestle in on Myra’s shoulder
“Yes, lets go” Myra replied.
As they slowly muddled away Myra realised that the longing she had wished for, the warmth, joy, love and friendship, is something she had with her all along. These strange three characters had developed their own family to rejoice in, a family evergreen.
“Let’s sing a carol,” cried Preeti and off they went.
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