NCW - All about my Eva (standard:Creative non-fiction, 992 words)
Author: Royalist	Added: Dec 31 2005	Views/Reads: 3362/4	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The Christmas Eve I became the mother of Eva, at the tender age of eight...

All about my Eva. 

The house is silent, except for the soft purring from the cat on my lap.
My boys are asleep, at last... I adore this solitary hour before 
midnight, it allows me to think one thought properly without having to 
answer the phone and wipe up spilled milk at the same time. Sometimes I 
treat myself to a glass of sherry, and some chocolate mints, depending 
on what kind of a day I have had. After a long marriage I am now a 
single mum, much against my will, but such is life. My grandma was fond 
of sayings like "what does not kill you makes you stronger", "while the 
worst is happening the best is waiting round the corner" and as a 
constant reminder I have memorised her wisdom on yellow stickers in 
strategic positions all over the house. 

As I sit here by the kitchen table I repeatedly glance through the
window. I am the spectator of a miracle... this winters first snowfall. 
I will never become indifferent to its beauty, an endless amount of 
glittering snowflakes heading for a soft landing on my windowsill, 
illuminated by the yellowy porch light. Quite a surprise to whisper in 
my boys ears in the morning, I swear they will be out of bed like 
rockets! I consider it an honour to be born in this cold corner of the 
world and yet still be wealthy enough to enjoy winter from the warm 
side of the window, where my geraniums eagerly aim for the sky with a 
spray of red flowers. Yes, I am privileged in being able to close my 
door on Winter whenever I find it too much; a choice not available to 
all, a fortune for which I am grateful... On occasions like this I 
often lapse into daydreaming, mainly involving my childhood. Thinking 
back, I wish I was that  girl of eight again, fixing her attention on 
one snowflake in an attempt to follow its way from the sky to the 
ground. 

Living in the south of Sweden did not guarantee a white Christmas.
Fortunately my grand parents lived further up north, and their spacious 
house became the Mecca for all of us each holiday season; aunts, 
uncles, siblings and cousins. I cannot speak for the adults, but I 
remember how thrilling it was as a child to pack all the gifts we were 
bringing with us. 

This very December many years ago, my mother brought me along to the
largest toyshop in town to buy Christmas presents for my cousins. 
Susanna was the one I liked most; she was only months younger than I. 
Her father was my mothers brother; her mother my fathers sister, so we 
felt exceptionally close, being so called "double cousins". Anyway, 
back to the toyshop. My eyes fell on the most gorgeous doll I had ever 
seen... Oh, how much I urged for it! The label around her wrist said 
"Hi, my name is Eva, I need someone to take care of me!" I took her in 
my arms and buried my nose in her goldilocks, silently praying "please, 
let me be the one!" My mother was in a hurry and showed no mercy, she 
made me put the doll back on the shelf reminding me that we were not 
looking at presents for ourselves. 

As the days grew closer to the holidays, my mother was busy sewing and
knitting the most adorable doll clothes you could imagine. I used to 
sit beside her and wish they were for me, for a doll I did not have... 
One day she brought home a large box, and to my astonishment, in it was 
Eva, the doll! I was thrilled but only for a moment as mum told me it 
was to be a gift for my cousin Susanna, and would I please help her 
wrap it nicely together with all the clothes in the same package? I 
remember how envious I felt, and how many times I asked God in my 
evening prayers if that gift could be for me, instead. 

Christmas time coming up, my father spent hours polishing his pride and
joy, a Mercedes which was strictly used for occasions like this, a four 
hour drive northward. The excitement grew as we were approaching 
grandmas house, and when mum searched her handbag for a hairbrush, my 
brother and I knew we were almost there! 

Such beautiful memories of a childhood not known to many these days; a
snowy Christmas season filled with warmth in many ways, such as sledge 
rides downhill, ice skating, skiing, building snow lanterns, drinking 
hot chocolate and eventually defrosting cold bottoms in front of the 
tiled stove indoors. 

That special December morning; waking up as a child without being able
to fathom that magic overnight change. Flickering candles, someone 
playing "Silent night" on the piano, a majestic Christmas tree 
sheltering presents with its lower branches; eager children's hands 
having a squeeze in secret. 

Imagine my surprise on noticing two identical parcels, wrapped in red
foil with a spray of green ribbon. I could not take my eyes off them. 
In my country Santa knocks on the door, steps inside and hands out the 
gifts placed under the tree. This Christmas I asked my mum more than 
once when he was due to come... Finally he did, and my happiness was 
complete as my prayers had been answered; one red parcel was for 
Susanna, and the other one for me. 

I will never forget that Christmas; the one when I became the mother of
Eva. Years later she was to be replaced by five wonderful sons, the 
oldest now aged 27 and the youngest 9... Eva is still around, well 
embedded in a box together with the beautiful clothes my mother made. 
Maybe one day I will be blessed with a granddaughter, wanting to lavish 
her maternal instincts on Eva, just like her grandmother once did... 


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