STANDING in Dublin airport waiting for a loved one to come home, surrounded by others also waiting to see who comes through the automatic doors. A guy with a guitar calling for requests before launching into Rocking Around the Christmas Tree. The sound of clinking Duty Free bags as the very last minute precious cargo bangs off wheelie cases. Dings of phones with texts saying 'Will you be much longer? The traffic guy is handing out tickets.'
This part of the Irish Christmas is joyous, and heartbreaking, all at once.
Some of those coming home will be away for great expansive reasons. Education, expedition, sampling the ever-smaller world – all so enriching for those who choose to travel and come home to share yarns, photos and t-shirts. For the majority it is a story of emigration for economic and social reasons. A country once too poor to keep our young people, or too right wing to build a life of love, is now banishing so many of its young by failing to share wealth, land and homes. Young professionals cannot live on their salaries and afford a home in their own country. What seemed like a choice becomes less and less positive as the infrastructure of a good life becomes far too difficult to achieve.
But for this week, or maybe two if the home is lucky, that never-ending conversation is paused, as mammies make up the beds, their chests bursting as they strategically put teddy somewhere that can be seen for the adults that will always be their beating hearts, and daddies ask 'Have you enough to see you throught till you go back?' Mammy will grab the precious quiet time of chat with a cup of tea, or while peeling the carrots, and asking how their child 'really' is. If there is a girlfriend or boyfriend whose name keeps being mentioned as tales of excursions and laughs are being told, there will be an enquiry as to how that is going. What is really being asked is if that means they might settle down away from home. Having Santa going to grandchildren’s homes on the other side of the world is a different pain that, well… thinking about that can wait until the New Year.
The siblings that have stayed, but might go yet, plan the week to see the brother or sister for the bits with the folks and the bits out for a healthy walk, or more often the session. With everyone probably landing home for Christmas Eve, but definitely for the Day itself. Hugs are quickly followed with the slagging. Hair, weight, clothes, beards, accents – all need dissected so everyone can say, 'Yer home now.' Once that is sorted dinner is when everyone connects back in. Sitting down to eat the meal that everyone looks forward to. Turkey slices dripping in juices with skin that is fought over. Roasted veggies with the ones with brown crunchy edges being fought over. Gravy poured like soup. Roast potatoes savoured. And stuffing devoured, with never quite enough made.
For this moment waited on, longed for, and far too fleeting, the lucky families pause and realise how precious this moment is, and they raise a glass. There is enough pain for the other days. Right here and right now is enough.
Nollaig shona.
