Clarissa’s Christmas Eve

Clarissa opened one eye and waited for the excitement to hit her. It was Christmas Eve. What delights awaited: The lighting of the tree, the sugar plums, the stockings hanging, Papa carrying her up to bed. But that was long ago and she was here and now. It was Christmas Eve and she was alone. She struggled to push off her covers and clamber out of bed. She was sure, if she could hear them, her old bones were rattling. Clarissa gritted her teeth. She would not be blue. Christmas Eve was her favourite day of the year but despite all, she could feel the black dog edging closer in the grovelling crawl that dogs adopt, thinking you can’t see what they’re up to.

“Be gone!” she said, turning her back on darkness and summoning happier thoughts. She would wear her blue empire waist dress with the puffed sleeves and lace trimming. It was blue to match her eyes; both faded with time, it was true but still perfectly serviceable.

Christmas Eve! She did wish that she was allowed more than one favourite day, like her birthday or Christmas itself, or New Years. Christmas Eve was what she had chosen and she was content with the memories of it even if she did miss the bygone days. Memories must not stop her from participating in these times. She would go to the shops and have a look around.

Mind made up, Clarissa donned her outer wear and took a tentative step out into crisp winter air. A fresh fall of snow blanketed the ground, the late afternoon sun bursting through to highlight the trees with twinkling sparks. Clarissa drifted on into first one shop and then another. She had forgotten her purse but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t buy; needed nothing. She just liked to watch and enjoy the frenzy of others. No one noticed her. They were all intent on their last minute purchases, grabbing and stuffing mince pies and ugly ties and candies and brandies into already over-loaded shopping carts.

As dusk descended, the shops began to shut, their weary employees staggering home in the gathering gloom. Clarissa followed. As she passed the church she could hear carols. The choir must be practicing for midnight mass. Clarissa wished she could attend but by then there were too many others about. She preferred to be tucked up by the time midnight rolled around. To compensate, she sang the descant of “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” even though she could no longer hit the high notes. A passing cat yowled in sympathy. Thunderous chords from the organ and then there was silence.

Clarissa wended her way through the snow covered graveyard, her route illuminated here and there by the old gas lamps that were lit on special occasions. She sighed. Christmas Eve was over for another year. She climbed into her bed and settled down as the marble slab slid back over her bones.

Clarissa’s Christmas Eve – Clo Carey 2018

Photo Credits – Clo Carey/Mark Kidley BBC.com

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