This is my favourite time of the year.
Between Diwali, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, Chinese New Year and, in my case, my only child’s birthday, I tend to be more grateful and count more of my blessings than my failures. I feel more joy, more hope, more happiness.
Irrespective of our spiritual beliefs or how far from the equator we live, whether it is a consequence of the influence of media, marketing or Hollywood, collectively we are all affected by it.
This is the season when we take time for reflection, for sharing and giving, for planning and setting up goals, for secretly making wishes.
Since my son was born, these dates have been even more meaningful to me. He and I enjoy decorating our home for the different festivities. We invite our friends for dinners or movie nights. We give to our friends and to those in need. This year, as we all try to adapt to living with a pandemic, we had a go with indoor picnics which has now become a thing for us.
I started making an effort to celebrate these special days as a means to instil in my son the habit of being thankful. To show appreciation for our family, for our friends, for what we have, for what we are capable of doing or achieving.
However…
I have a confession to make.
From the moment he was born, on 18 December 2010, at 12:49 pm, my son has been teaching me the true meaning of gratitude and joy.
He doesn’t need an occasion such as Chirstmas dinner to show his love or appreciation for someone or something. He does it naturally, with words or hugs or handmade cards, everytime he feels grateful. He may have a problem sharing sometimes but he loves to give. (Of course he also loves to receive. Who doesn’t?)
The way he marvels at the world around him, how every little discovery brightens his eyes, the beauty he sees in the most insipid of things have helped me open my own eyes a little wider.
So fairy lights come on at night, we have flowers everywhere, scented candles and music not only on those prescribed days of the year but every day. With him every dinner at the table is a special occasion, every bedtime chat is a significant moment, every new discovery is a marvel, every picnic on the floor of our living room is a celebration.
And my secret wish is to continue to treasure and celebrate our every moment.
Written by Shobha Sankarankutty
Week 51, December ’20
Based out of Singapore, I am a single working mother always aiming for a life made simple, beautiful and fun!
