For me, nothing in the English language captures the essence of Christmas as perfectly as this passage from The Pickwick Papers, which Charles Dickens wrote when he was just 25. I’ve shared it around this time of year for now more than five decades. I hope this holiday season finds you by your own fireside and your quiet home.
We write these words now, many miles distant from the spot at which, year after year, we met on that day, a merry and joyous circle. Many of the hearts that throbbed so gaily then, have ceased to beat; many of the looks that shown so brightly then, have ceased to glow; the hands we grasped have grown cold; the eyes we sought have hid their lustre in the grave; and yet the old house, the room, the merry voices, and smiling faces, the jest, the laugh, the most minute and trivial circumstances connected with those happy meetings, crowd upon our mind at each recurrence of the season, as if the last assemblege had been but yesterday! Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fire-side and his quiet home!
Beautiful passage that powerfully captures why we are driven to gather at Christmas! In very recent years, I’ve had to share this day with someone I don’t want to be around which feels like a dark cloud over a once glorious gathering. however, your post brings forth the warmth of family firesides that Dickens has ever described and made me ignore the dread to refocus on the beauty of our time together. Thank you and A Very Merry Christmas to You! ⭐️🎄
Good old CD. Never fails you.