Text and images Britt Arnhild
Early, silent morning. Still dark outside. A few lights on in the livingroom. The deep red and gold table cloth which Terje bought in Provence before Christmas a few years ago has got stains, memories from meals with family and friends. It will stay on the table for a few days still, a symbol of the spirit of Christmas.
The book I am reading is in my lap. Soon I will open it and read the last pages.
But not yet. Now, in the silence and lonelyness, I dwell on memories from yet another Christmas. We are stil in the middle of it, already it is filled with memories which I will bring with me through coming days, weeks, years.
I have no cd on, still I can hear music. My mother playing like she did here on Christmas Eve. Like she did on Christmas Day during the big family party in my parents home.
Her music has wrapped my life. I am still unwrapping the gift.
