I heard Nat King Cole singing The Little Boy That Santa Claus Forgot. Surprisingly, I’d never heard it before, it’s such a sad song and it doesn’t have a happy ending.
I’ve been feeling forgotten lately (no Christmas card from the South) . Apparently it’s not the only time. When I was in infant school, the teacher had to phone my Mum as I refused to go home. It was Open Day, and my picture was up on the wall. Mum had promised to come and look at it, but she’d forgotten, yet I was patiently waiting for her.
I phoned my brother Down Under this morning. He hasn’t had a card for years, birthday or Christmas. In the eighteen years since he emigrated, apart from me, no-one in the UK has ever rung him. Like us, it’s just the two of them for Christmas. Whereas for us it’s the norm, this is the first time they haven’t had a houseful. When I rang, my sister in law said he was ‘spreading out’ on the settee. This meant that he was well and truly stuffed and slightly mellow from a good brandy……. or two….. or three. He’ll be ringing Mum later, as he does every year.
The news this morning is full of families evacuated due to floods, people being cut off with no electricity, and I think about how they will be spending their Christmas Day.
As I look around and see our tree, a fire glowing in the hearth, a cup of tea on the coffee table after having my breakfast, and the meal I’ll be cooking later, I count my blessings.
I’ll be sharing my day with Hubby and the Dog, and together with my brother, I know I’m loved.