Thinking of You

Dear friend,

There were rumours about the guy who worked in the bike section of the one big toy shop in town. People said all kinds of cruel and stupid things about him, and I was a bit scared of him.

None of the adults were, though, and that was reassuring. I liked the guy’s multi-coloured knitted beanie hat. He wore it all year round with a cardboard-brown, knee-length work coat.

I was picking out my first-ever brand new store-bought bicycle. A Raleigh, made in Nottingham, Esquire. Three gears, sit-up-and-beg, sparkly brown with mudguards, a chain guard, and an old-fashioned sprung seat.

I wanted a ten-speed racer, but Dad said they weren’t safe.

I was still in that age range where you believe everything you’re told, so I was thrilled anyway. My ten-year-old mind could live happily with Santa being both dead and alive at the same time. Real and not real.

Walking home accompanied by a bear and an eagle and a wolf.

Or chased by robots.

It was all on a par with lessons, bedtime, and brushing your teeth.

The mysteries and the mundanity intertwined.

I’m about to jump in the car and pick up Maya and Bessie. I know not everyone who reads this will be with friends and family over the holidays.

We all know how it feels to miss important people in our lives.

I just wish you peace.

Wherever you are and whoever you are with.

Peace of mind.

And peace for everyone touched by conflict.

Everyone we know and for all the people we will never meet.

We can all wish peace and send it out in ripples and waves.

The story that humanity is doomed to be misled over and over is not a very good one—not one I believe in anymore.

Waking up to kindness.

Thankfulness.

Gentleness.

Sharing.

Forgiving.

That’s the story of Christmas to me.

I’ll be old fashioned,

Wishing you a very Merry Christmas.

Till tomorrow,

Love,
Mikey