MEMOIR/PHOTO ESSAY

Christmas Lights At My Favourite River

It looks lovely

My favourite river is on the south side of the town in which my family lived after my family moved to England from Germany. It had walls, as it is ancient, but more recently the earthen walls became places to walk or to sit and watch the river on the north side, which has a water powered mill. This particular river flows into the harbour beside which I now live. I wrote about it in my last photo essay.

In ancient Viking times, this was a busy port, with boats full of cargo coming to unload at the Quay that you see here. Eventually, after disuse, the river silted up. It is tidal here and for many more miles inland. It has flood plains or water meadows. In dry weather, cows graze the grass.

While we lived here, my sister and I went horse riding, and my love of horses would continue for many years. We would walk this towpath as a family or to spend time with time with friends. Indeed, some friends used the towpath in order to get to school. Two miles further west is the place where the photo of the cows crossing the road was taken. It features in my pinned story “Where I Live We Give Ways To Cows”.

The bright lights in the distance belong to a rather expensive hotel. A school friend is the gardener there, among other things. Yachts and canoes make their way along the river. There is a yacht club — probably the smallest in the country.

This river holds so many memories for me, almost as many as my home in Germany does. Just behind where I am standing here is a stone bench paid for by my school year group. On it are the names of people we went to school with who have died. Many met their deaths as cyclists being hit by a car, and, sadly, several took their own lives. Too, two older brothers of classmates drowned here. One was trying to save the other.

I don’t often think of the sadnesses associated with the bench. It was right to make a place to reflect. Nostalgia, though, does well up in me for the happy times spent along this river.

Further north, a family from my teenage years had a house with the river at the bottom of the garden. We had lots of fun there and we would also go in their land rover to a Roman fort to play “wide games”. These are team games played in the woods that have grown in the rings of the ancient fortress.

It seems fitting that I share Christmas lights here. I don’t think I will return here again. There is no real reason to do so, and travelling completely exhausts me now. This is a good memory to end with.

In Germany, the Christmas tree always went up on Christmas Eve, and we would exchange gifts in the evening as is the tradition. This meant I got a birthday the following day. We would have various relatives visit on Christmas Day and most remembered my birthday. I really lost out when we moved to England and my mother adopted British traditions.

I used to give my daughter gifts over the Twelve Days of Christmas, though they would get smaller towards to the end.

Thank you for reading!

My thanks to the editors of In Living Color.