Creative writing submission from the Rest Less community – submit your entry here.
For so many people these days Christmas Eve is just busy, busy, busy. Whereas, for me, it’s the quiet before the storm. I make sure that it’s a day of total relaxation; a good dog walk with the sausages, a great book to read, and an afternoon curled up next to the wood burner with two little silkies sharing the sofa.
This year, there’s been so much sickness about that I found myself succumbing to what I think was norovirus which laid me low and terribly ill for about five days. I couldn’t keep any food or even water down. The thing is, you always learn something from adversity. I had no idea how two needy little Dachshunds would cope when all plans and routines went out of the window. For example, there were no ‘walkies’ as I could barely raise my head off the pillow.
Willow, in many ways the most nervous, was clearly anxious and initially afraid. This unfortunately resulted in her bouncing around my legs as I was otherwise engaged, meaning that at one point, as I was trying to push her away, I puked on her head! Due to her size and weight, I was able to carry on doing what I needed to do as I raised her in one hand and shoved her head under the bath tap. After that, she let me be and kept her distance. Trust me, I’ve apologised profusely to her since, but I just had to do what I had to do.
On the other hand, Bear seemed to get it immediately. He kept his distance and moved quickly to get out of my way as I rushed backwards and forwards to the bathroom. Between bouts though, as I curled up helpless on the mattress sweating and with my teeth chattering, he’d quietly crawl up to spoon my cramping stomach like a living hot water bottle, generously sharing his body heat. I could’ve kissed him, that tiny piece of furry comfort. When I most needed it, he gave me the message, “You won’t die alone.” OK, I hear you say, “It was only norovirus, you weren’t dying”…but if you’ve had it, you’ll know that it feels like you are and I now have reassurance for when the time comes.
Funnily enough, it was four days after the actual explosion that was the worst for me. Feeling drained, exhausted, and nauseous all the time, my mouth would fill with saliva at the smell of next door’s cooking and my abdominal core felt like it had a small rhino sitting on it for days. With my usual optimism though, the weight loss! Perhaps just what one needed for that extra mince pie over Christmas.
Anyway, now fully recovered I had some catching up to do. Although, I’ve reached that time in life where I’ve taken the pressure off myself and have accepted that I can only do what I can do – I’m not going to stress about what hasn’t been done or managed. The Christmas decorations are up and look lovely (I don’t have a tree, I just decorate the fireplace) and everything that can be achieved has been done. All presents are wrapped and ready to take over with the sausages on Christmas Day to my friends, Kate and Matt.
So I spent the evening watching TV with Willow tucked into the crook of my arm and Bear stretched out on my lap, laying along my legs, both fast asleep. I woke them up for bedtime and took them into the garden for a last pee. I chose to sit quietly for a while as they pootled about, enjoying the chill on my skin. Through the darkness above the gate, I could see my Christmas lights twinkling, reflected off the darkened sitting room window, their coloured glow competing with the stars like 1,000 coloured candles flickering together.
In spite of the weather, it was strangely and somewhat beautifully quiet and still. The colours of the wind played out like a physical entity as it buffeted the tarpaulins covering the logs, so that if you closed your eyes, it was like Marley’s ghost, rattling and shaking his chains. The wind has a strange power reminiscent of the ravages of time. It begins like the tiny babe howling as it fills its lungs with the first breath of life but moves forward at speed to the angry ravages of an old man as he shakes his fist into the bleak abyss.
I’m forced to return to reality as a pair of tiny paws rest gently on my knees, two warm, inquisitive, brown eyes searching mine in understanding. Smiling, my hand instantly goes down to stroke and fondle Bear’s velvet head as Willow also comes to make her presence felt. Rising, I call them inside, my mind set on making cocoa as I ask Bear not to let me leave my Kindle downstairs. With the pan soaking in the sink, we all make our way up to bed.
As soon as I throw back the quilt and climb into bed, both sausages burrow in beside me so that as I lay propped up on the pillows, my glasses on the end of my nose, I have a small, heated, silky bean laying down the length of me on either side. They stay like this until I’m ready for sleep, when they burrow down further into the bed to my feet. Unusually, I must have dozed off as I was woken to the room in total darkness by the gentle rumbles of a small Bear.
Glancing at the illuminated display of the clock, I saw that it was 1:30 am. Bear moved up the bed, popping his head out from under the covers on my chest, his eyes searching mine as he rumbled a second time.
It was a low-throated growl that made its way from his velvet tummy out of his throat to vibrate down on my ribs. So as not to wake Willow, who was gently snoring, her breath like the thrum of a note played on a violin, I quietly brought my hand up to stroke his head. Cupping his chin, I brought my face down to his so that I could kiss his nose and whisper into his little triangular ears. “Shhhh…Bear, it’s OK, there’s nothing to worry about, go back to sleep.”
For a few moments, the clock stopped ticking and time stood completely still, the soft, warm air between us hanging in the darkness as two pairs of ears, the silky ones far superior, listened closely. I couldn’t swear to it but I thought we heard the faint sound of bells jingling out in the wind, a kind of brittle, metallic tinkle.
This was followed shortly after by a deep rush of air, like the whoosh of something large gliding through the commotion of calm that was the night sky, right above us. Then, bizarrely, and I know it sounds mad, but I’m convinced that disappearing into the other side of silence like an echo was a: “Ho, ho, ho!” Deep and mellow and strangely full of joy.
Bear and I looked at each other for a moment before, shaking himself out, he harrumphed, turned his little furry bottom towards me, and burrowed his way back down the bed, emitting a huge sigh as he settled back down to sleep, snuggling up to his sister. Removing my glasses and Kindle to place on the bedside table, I too made myself comfortable, said a quick prayer to my beloved dogs Arthur and Ila, closed my eyes, and surrendered to sleep.
Merry Christmas to you all on this day of good cheer. May you have a peaceful and happy one, do something purposeful, go out for a walk, have a second sherry, and enjoy it! And, while I’m at it, may I wish you all a happy and prosperous New Year. It’s the chance for a new beginning and Willow, Bear, and I know all about those! Life is short so let’s make it count!
Are you feeling creative? We are proud to have a hugely talented community on Rest Less, which is why we’re so excited to open up a section of the site dedicated to showcasing the wonderful and diverse writing of our members. If you have a piece of creative writing that you’d like to share with the Rest Less community – you can do so here.