With Artist and Storyteller Tee Bylo
“I keep thinking how lonely Christmas must be for Nicole’s family without her.” Murphy finally whispered; “And all that her children have now are those memories of wonderful Christmases past.” He added sadly.
“I am sure that her loved ones miss her very much at Christmas.” I replied. “And not just at this time of year, but Murphy you must remember that every time we think of a loved one who is no longer with us; we are keeping the spirit of that person very much alive and they remain with us even when we not thinking of them.”
“For with every gift that we carefully select and wrap, with every shiny bauble that we hang on the tree and even when we have stuffed ourselves so full of food that we fall asleep; we are carrying our loved ones forward in our lives and in our hearts.”
"And Murphy, I believe that the true magic of this time of year are the gifts that we cannot find under the Christmas tree such as the gifts of love and patience, forgiveness and reconciliation."
However as Murphy was about to potter off on his next adventure, I reminded him that these special gifts can and should be shared with others and on that note he might want to go in search of a little forgiveness from the feline he had 'cuffed' earlier in that day!
For perched upon one of the beautifully gifts piled up under the tree was none other than Murphy!
Determined not to intrude upon his thoughts as he gazed upon the portrait of Nicole from underneath the tree, I crept quietly away and left my gift in another corner of the room.
However my presence had not gone unnoticed and as I went over to have a chat with the feline, I saw no sign of the usual playful glint in his large copper-coloured eyes…
Creating Life in 12th Scale...
With the clock ticking towards Christmas Day, I took the opportunity to grab a few hours away from the hard work that I had been doing in the basement kitchen at 13 Piccadilly Terrace in the year 1815.
For having already prepared a sumptuous breakfast of Plover’s Eggs, freshly made bread and red currant jelly for Lord Byron’s household and leaving the making of yet another batch of mince pies for an hour or so, I made a quick visit to Nicole’s House.
Although my intention was to leave a special gift for Nicole, I had also wanted to spend a moment or two by the Christmas tree which had been dressed in remembrance of this wonderful lady and who had made similar gold bows by hand to decorate her last Christmas tree before her untimely death six months later.
It was only after I had bounded up the stairs and into the warm and festive loft, did I realise that I was not the only visitor to Nicole’s house this Christmas Eve...
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