A White 'Christmas'

I mentioned that I had been in hospital - in fact it was a psychiatric unit after I had some sort of breakdown. I don't want to say anymore at the moment partly because this is a public blog and partly because I still have a long way to go before I can say exactly what happened.

While I was in there I took part in a couple of Occupational Therapy classes on creative writing and during one about weather related stories I also wrote a poem. Those of you as old as me and in the UK will remember the winter of 1962/3 when it snowed on Boxing Day and was still on the ground in March; the only time in my life when that has happened. As was often the case we spent Christmas on my uncle's farm near Battle and this poem is my recollection of Boxing Day 1962.

Boxing Day 1962

I woke up, it was light,
A strange light.
Had I over slept?
No.
But the world was lit by a magical light.

Clambering off the camp bed
I rushed to the window.
I saw a new world outside.
A white world.
A world of snow.

Outside the farm was swaddled in snow,
The white drive was decorated
with tractor tracks and foot prints.
The fence posts wore hats of snow
And the trees stood proud in their new white coats.

Christmas had come.
A day late
But to me it was Christmas.
The best Christmas ever.