My favourite story of all time is A Christmas Carol, and this year, I’ve had my very own ‘Ebeneezer moment’, though without the ghosts and spirits, thankfully.
I was always intrigued by the theme of redemption. To know that it’s never too late to live your life differently, to live your life at all. That’s what always got me choked up about Ebeneezer. He inspired me to hold on tight to the notion that my life could be better, fuller, more joyful.
For a long time I hadn’t realised that Ebeneezer was once a happy young man, and that life and its tribulations had led to a loss of himself. It’s easy to blink and miss this. He didn’t magically turn into a new person, he returned to who he was.
This was the second layer of meaning that started to touch me even more deeply, relevant as it was during my last few years living in London.
Hoping to find myself, I’d searched all over London. From Cornhill to Camden Town (just like Bob Cratchit’s commute), from Vauxhall to Old Street (my commute), and everywhere in between. But of course, I was here in my home town all along. I knew the theory but believed it to be Humbug. I would find a new, shinier, improved me somewhere else, but of course, I didn’t.
Like Ebeneezer’s money, my time and fierce self-sufficiency had taken on a meaning of their own. Again and again, in order to prove to myself that I could manage should I need to be alone, I chose to be alone. Keeping my time to myself, over the love and connection that was always available to me at home – a place I felt I couldn’t /didn’t want to return to.
Worst of all during this time, I turned against Christmas, a period I’d always traditionally loved. As you know, I tried escaping and even went to Vegas alone to get away from it. People thought me adventurous and exciting but really I just went there to hide from something that no longer held any joy for me.
Despite my anti-Christmas period, I kept to my yearly tradition of re-reading and seeing a production of A Christmas Carol. I trusted or perhaps hoped, that Christmas would come back to me.
Since returning to Fleet last year on a leap of faith, or perhaps desperation, I have of course spent more time alone this year than ever. But this time it wasn’t my choice. It wasn’t a defensive move, and ironically, I’ve felt more connected and joyful than ever.
I had no idea how much of myself I’d left behind when I went to live in London and am now happily reclaiming myself and those around me every day.
Though there are lots of people who form part of my story, Loo, your part in this is perhaps the most significant one. Like Ebeneezer’s nephew who never gave up on him, you’ve always tried to show me that I was, and always would be welcome, loved and wanted. I’m finally learning to allow it – occasional wobble aside. So whilst all my letters are addressed to you, this one is dedicated to you.
I have at last found both redemption and myself in my home town and in your home – in your family. And I shall be forever thankful.
God bless us, everyone.