The most beautiful night

Photo: Guillaume Fortin
They have beautiful make noise, break my trinkets, dirty my beautiful tablecloths and jump on the sofas, a grand-mother would give anything to spend more time with his grandchildren.

Year-end gift to the reporters of the Duty, the series of Snapshots proposes that fictional texts inspired by archival photos of the Holiday season sent by readers to the editors. Today, the last two texts of the series, signed Laurence Clavel and Karl Rettino-Parazelli, from pictures provided by Guillaume Fortin and Marie Lavoie.

It is true that they were a little upset. Not monsters — my beautiful Julie exaggerates all the time, but the small sprites, put. It is normal for children to be excited during the Holiday season.


They had not even removed their boots that they were already in the process of rummaging through the gifts under the tree. It was beautiful to see. After that, Julie spent the evening telling them not to touch it then this, but this was not necessary. The children, it explores, it discovers business. And Charles-Olivier learn how to use a pair of scissors, it was almost six years old !


Rosalie has ripped off almost all the petals off my poinsettia, then Charles-Olivier broke a cup in the porcelain of my mother. After three hours of auto, it is certain that they had ants in the legs, small head. And it’s not because I had ” given chocolate “, contrary to what my son-in-law has whispered to my daughter while I clipped the small red shoes Rosalie (she doesn’t stop wanting to remove them, I think they are too big). It is not true that it excites the chocolate. It seems that it is good for health, they said on the news.


(Anyway, it was the “good” chocolate, it was little After Eight that I put in their pockets when they came to give me a nose.)


They were excited, and the beautiful Rosalie was sick, too. The poor, it still is an ear infection. Are always sick, these children. My daughter to me has never had that, an ear infection. She has had chicken pox once, I recall, but it was the fault of the neighbor boy.


So, during supper, the little girl has begun to cry. She kept rubbing the ear. I told my daughter to put a little garlic in it, but it has nothing wanted to know. It is a good remedy, though. It, and then the onion. My mother to me, always made us eat the raw onion when you said that you had a sore throat, and then it took no time that there was more wrong.


Charles-Olivier, himself, did not want to eat the good stew with dumplings that I had prepared. He said that he had a stomach ache. But when I pulled out the log at the ice cream Lambert, for example, he was miraculously healed. He has a sweet tooth, this little. Like his grandfather, Pierre-Paul. Him, he would have been able to eat the log all by itself. I would have wanted to know her grandchildren. But it left the year when Charles-Olivier is born. Just before Christmas.


Six years already. Six Christmases to decorate the christmas tree all alone. To cook my stew in the knowledge that it will not be there to tell me that ” it tastes like heaven “. Six years out the remains of the yule log, and then to tell me that this is a great waste. Six years ago my Julie finds excuses for not coming to see me : it is too hard for her, the house reminds him too much of memories, it is too far away, ” with children, you understand, mum.”


Seems to Me, yes. The dominican Republic, it is far away, and yet, they leave in the south a Christmas about two years since, Pierre-Paul is dead…


It is, of course, I could go into town to see them more often. But I don’t like it drive on the highway. And then the city, it is not in me. For me, it is here. In the house that we bought when we got married, Pierre-Paul and me. Where our Julie was born. Where we celebrated more than 30 Carols. The house that he will take me to sell at a given time because it is made much too large for me alone.


If at least my daughter and her little family remained in the bedroom. But it seems that they always have a good reason to go in good time : a brunch with friends the next day, the boy, who is sick in the car if he doesn’t sleep during the ride…


Except this year. This year, thanks to the snow that started falling just before it is soup and then that turned into ice while cutting the log ; and thanks to Charles-Olivier, who had eaten too much dessert and that was holding her belly with both hands, crying ; thanks to Rosalie who fell asleep on the living room carpet after you have cried all the evening ; thanks to my son-in-law that I had served a little bit too strong, and who had “forgotten” that it was him who was driving ; thanks to all that, this year, it is almost midnight and my family is still there. Not even need gifts : I am filled with joy.


I hear my daughter Julie who sings O, night of peace in doing the dishes while my son-in-law Marc opens the last beer while watching Miracle on 34th street. He lowered the volume because small sleep.


They have beautiful make noise, break my trinkets, dirty my beautiful tablecloths and jump on the couches, I’d give anything to spend a Christmas in two with my grandchildren. To be able to remove the red shoes from Rosalie to the bedroom in his small bed, still fully clothed. Ensure with my great Charles-Olivier and then paste two kitchen chairs together so that it “rests” (impossible to the bedroom : he wants to watch the arrival of father Christmas). Wrap it as well as it should in my fur coat, detach the watch “grand” of his small wrist and hang on to the bars of the chair so that he can see the time on his alarm clock.


Julie will surely try to get back down to the city immediately after lunch, but, for once, I would be able to keep them a little longer than usual. And watch them sleep.


They are so beautiful when they sleep.