Through my eyes

It's that time of the year, Christmas is approaching and we are starting to wind down.

Not so long ago I was looking forward to a beautiful adventure with my sons, somewhere exotic, a place where Christmas was not just a commercial gimmick. But my boys have grown up now and want to do their own thing during the holidays and that is strangely painful.

There is such nostalgia connected with Christmas in my household. Being born in an impoverished Catholic country, Christmas time was the only time of the year when we feasted.

My childhood memories of Christmas are fairy tale like images. The sights of snow falling outside a misty window, the smells of freshly baked bread, the family and friends all dressed to the nines, laughing, joking and being merry. That life was very much alive, not just in my imagination but also in reality.

It is no wonder I try hard to find it in my own life. Each year I seek to recreate Christmas the way it was, but I can never get it right, even when I return to Poland for Christmas, its not the same, as so many of my family members are no longer on this earth or somehow are estranged.

My mother ensured that I embrace the authentic Christmas traditions. Oh we had such fightsit is no fun spending three days in the hot kitchen preparing a feast that will be consumed in ten minutes.

"It is not about that," She would tell me angrily, "It's about our tradition so stop bitching and get on with it."

Today as my mom and I plan our Christmas together, we know exactly who is doing which course. We have strategic planning in place and our prep time should be cut by half as my boys will be helping out with the preparations.

And just like me, they will be complaining, and just like me they will be asking the same questions, "Why " and "What is it for " and hopefully just like me, one day they will wake up and realise exactly why, because its our tradition.

Each year at Christmas I can't help but think about all the displaced people. Those forgotten souls in shelters and halfway houses. Those that have immigrated for greener pastures, those that are estranged from their families and those that were forced out of their homelands.

Christmas is one of those times when we all miss home, our families and our close ones. No matter what culture we were born in, there is something auspicious about Christmas that makes us long for the cosy and familiar.

As we approach the Festive Season, I hope you are all making plans to be with your loved ones. It's that time of the year, a time to bury the hatchets, put on a big smile and create magic.

Wishing you a fabulous week ahead!