Lukáš, Julián and I are having cakes in the mall (yeah, I know). All the time I’ve been wanting to buy some red sparkling Christmas tree balls because we only have golden ones at home and red nicely matches golden. I finally buy them. I regret even before I’ve paid but I pay them nevertheless.
Then we go looking for a blouse for myself. Lukáš has prudently offered to carry Julián. I look at the blouses in several shops and the same feeling rises in me. This time I don’t buy.
One day I want to be rich so that I can buy less things.
One day I’ll have the time to sit down with my child so that we can make the Christmas tree decoration together using gingerbread dough and dried slices of citrus fruit. And nut shells.
One day I’ll only buy things someone made with love or at least with thought. Preferably with both.
Things most certainly bear part of their creator’s spirit. I wonder what’s the spirit of the sparkling balls, spray-painted in some hall in China.
The Christmas spirit?
One day my wardrobe will be French in quantity. High in quality. My clothes and I will get old and wrinkled together. I’ll maybe even have a favourite brand.
But by then…
By then I’m a mother on state benefits. I can do without a new blouse. My mission by the end of the year is at least three types of cookies and a well-baked and braided Christmas bread. And presents for all my nieces and nephews.
Picked with thought and love. Even if they’re made in China.