Monday 17 December 2007

Snowchild

It's funny how much things have changed in four months. My life is a lot more peaceful, and my husband isn't ill anymore. There is some closeness to be rebuilt but we are both managing to sidestep arguments. Now the season of peace and goodwill comes along to add its special magic, and despite the pressures of planning and preparing for Christmas (with four children, and in my case, two dozen relatives to buy for!) we have kept the air light and relatively tension-free.
After a spell of great excitement about this new world I've stumbled upon (energy medicine sounds kooky when you come from as straight-laced a scientific background as I do) I have adjusted to the fact that the world is still ticking on in much the same manner, and that most of the time my reality must coincide with that of the people around me.

Everyone has to find their own way to peace and happiness; this has been mine. Most people aren't even sure that peace and happiness are achievable, so I guess I was lucky that I always had a strong conviction that life could be better, and a hope that we might get there again.

So Christmas is coming, and with it, the time to properly connect. We started this afternoon at our daughter's first ever Christmas show, organised (with great courage, I thought!) by her nursery. We were - for the first time in my life, I confess - front row parents, beaming at her and whispering admiring things to each other. Look what we created! Isn't she sweet?

I've been incredibly aware, these last four years, of the power of children to drive their parents apart, no matter how strong the parents' love. It's good to become aware, also, of the power of children to bring their parents together. All this recovery, in some sense, and all of our battle (and eventual ceasefire) to stay together was underpinned by our determination not to damage our daughter. It was lovely to sit together and watch her beaming from the stage, dressed as a "snowchild", with a carrot for a nose.

Merry Christmas to each one of you, and may the mid-winter festivities warm you.