When I was a little girl, surprise-surprise, I believed in Santa Claus (Ded Moroz that is). I believed that Santa comes in the night and leaves presents under the tree.
However, if I happened to be at my grandparents’ in Riga during Christmas holidays, Santa would come earlier in the evening, ring the doorbell and leave a present on the door mat.
Why this story?
I find the quarantine, the lock down, the isolation, call it what you will, a very interesting experience in some aspect.
We can’t visit each other, but we have ‘distance’ school reunions with people we haven’t seen for years.
We can’t go out for meals but we cook amazing, new and unusual recipes at home, turning into competitors on MasterChef.
We can’t celebrate birthdays with friends but we all get our own birthday cakes and candles (thanks to Zoom parties).
And we get presents on the doorstep.
We can’t hug, we can’t touch, we can’t shake hands… but then we open our door to find some unexpected and lovely gift left on the doorstep.
Thanks to slower parcels’ delivery, my books found a purpose. My friend-writer Lee Kofman needed Russian fairytales for her new writing project. She called out to me for help (knowing that bookaholic like myself would have something, for sure). Four wonderful books that I bought years ago for my daughter found their exciting purpose in the hands of talented writer and I… I found a very cute bag with aromatic herbs….
I feel a poem coming… Watch this space.