The Blank Wall

I'm here again, after doing the very last and final errands for Christmas. I'm still on a Christmas high, and I don't have much time. It will be up by tomorrow, what a pity, we should have a whole Christmas week were nobody is on holiday except for me, so that I can avail myself of each and every opportune shopping type of activity. This Christmas makes me do strange things. Otherwise how on earth would I have been at my nail technician at half seven in the morning? I cannot even open my eyes at that time of the day on a usual day. The things we do for beauty. Hair is of course done, because Nigel is always at hand, bless bless bless that brother in law of mine. I just love being around when people call him incessantly pleading for a blow dry and he says he's not working, when he's actually just let his good old hairdryer down two seconds before. That is when being the only girl around my boys is very healthy. Because they think I'm some dolly they want to dress up. Nigel takes care of the hair, twin takes care of the jewellery, bf takes care of everything else, making appointments with my beautician, my nail technician and such as not putting the wrong gift tag with the wrong present. Oh I so like those boys. Everything's ready, I've wrapped everything up, and probably gone through two kilometres of Christmassy wrapping paper. Perhaps more, I didn't count. Now all I have to do is sleep right through the afternoon and wake up by six so it will be already dark. I don't think I'll be getting much sleep on Christmas Eve anyway, and I really would hate to sleep right through it. But there are people who will possibly sleep right through it because they just have their normal blank wall to stare at. And that makes me sad because I don't know where they are. If I did, well at least they would have me to stare at, and I'm sure my boys would join in. You do not realise how good Christmas is, even with an unbooked breakfast somewhere, until you put yourself into other people's shoes, that is, and this is going to sound morbid especially on Christmas Eve, if they have any feet left to put shoes into. I know this is terrible, but it's the truth. And as much as I have my little people very close to heart, well the older people get their fair share of sadness. And perhaps in twenty years' time it will be me staring at the blank old wall, me owning 500+ pairs of shoes and me with no feet to put them in. And it's not just the feet. It's also everything else. One-act plays acted out during school Christmas concerts sometimes have a poor woman with kids who are suddenly helped out by some rich man with a golden heart. And the audience applauds. But what is drama on stage could very well be the real thing happening next door. If only we could all take a paintbrush, some watercolours, and paint the blank old wall. Then it'd suddenly come to life, especially for those who have stared at it blankly for the whole year. We could very well be looking at ourselves in the future....