DRIFT AWAY

SLEEP IS IMPORTANT TO GOOD HEALTH, ESPECIALLY AT CHRISTMAS, THIS EXTRACT FROM NOTHING MUCH HAPPENS WILL HELP YOU DOZE OFF.

Christmas can be stressful and tiring, so read this calming story to make sure you get a good night’s rest.

I’D WOKEN UP WITH a feeling of electric excitement – that something was happening. Something good.

I lay still for a few moments and then smiled into my pillow. It was Christmas Eve. A day I loved and waited for all year. I sat up slowly in the darkness. I could hear the soft, slow breaths of my sweetheart sleeping and, not wanting to interrupt the slumber, I slipped out of bed. My dog was lying across the foot of the bed and she opened one brown eye to look at me. I squatted down beside her and whispered in her ear, “It’s Christmas Eve”. She listened, and I scratched her neck and leaned in to kiss the soft broad space between her eyebrows. As I moved to the door she jumped down and followed me out; we closed the bedroom door behind us and tiptoed toward our morning routine.

As the kettle boiled, I watched my dog through the kitchen window as she inspected the backyard and weaved through the trees strung with lights, a few birds waking and hopping through the branches above her. I opened my front door just to see the houses still lit up from the night before, strings of lights outlining the roof peaks, woven around windows and circling tree trunks and branches. I heard the whistling kettle and went back in to fill my cup, and I found my dog waiting at the back door. I went to turn on the Christmas tree lights and set myself up on the couch. She sidled up next to me and lay with her head on my lap. I spread a blanket over us. The house was quiet and dark but for the glow of the tree. I laid my hand into the thick fur of her back as we sat and I sipped from my cup.

I’d had a dog years ago who didn’t have much use for snuggling and affection. She was happy to lie in her own bed and just be in the room with me, but once a day or so, she would amble up to me and press her warm forehead against my thigh. I’d rub the back of her neck and after a moment she’d walk away and get back to whatever dog business occupied her time. Now, on the sofa with this little girl, I sat and said a silent thank you to every dog everywhere for their friendship. I had a sneaking suspicion, one that grew stronger as I grew older, that the point of everything is just to make friends, just to share moments, to be there with whoever was there and to pay attention to all of it.

That’s what I intended to make today about. We were having a little party, some food and music, a fire in the fireplace. I’d dusted off the piano and hoped someone would play a few songs. I felt a warmth spreading in my chest, grateful that faithful friends who were dear to us would gather near to us once more.

I’d spent the day before happily in the kitchen – my apron dusted with flour and powdered sugar, and the counters filling with baked treats: glossy golden braided breads, star-shaped cookies spread with frosting and dotted with tiny silver balls, and pastry cookies rolled with walnuts and cinnamon and glazed with apricot jam. I’d even baked a few home-made dog biscuits for Santa Paws to deliver to our little pooch.

I’d also made trays of finger foods; little tempting tarts filled with sundried tomatoes and pine nuts and caramelised onions. I’d serve bowls of roasted brussels sprouts, their outer leaves dark brown, crisp, and salty, and cold plates of dips and seasoned rice rolled into grape leaves. Some people dread being in the kitchen all day, but for me, especially at this time of year, it is merry work.

I’d turned on an old favourite Christmas movie, black-and-white, one I’d seen a hundred times, and let it play while I worked my way through the dishes. When everything was done and the kitchen was set back to rights, I stepped back and sighed with satisfaction. My friends and family would be well fed. My home would be a haven for the people I loved. They would feel safe and relaxed and cared for, and that was just about my favourite thing.

Back on the couch, my dog softly snoring beside me, I thought through the rest of the day. There was time for a walk outside together, and time for me to hole up somewhere and wrap a few gifts. We could sample the treats I’d made, catch each other under the mistletoe, and as evening came on we would don our gay apparel, light the fire and the candles, lay out the trays of food, open the bottles of wine, and wait for our friends to come trekking up the driveway.

As a little girl watching old Christmas movies from the couch, I’d expected my grown-up holidays to be full of train trips through snowy countrysides and nights in swanky cocktail clubs. I thought people might suddenly break into tap dances in ski chalets, or at least there would be … I guess … Muppets? As an adult, my holidays have been infinitely simpler: just a time to do some favourite things, be closer to the people I called family, to wonder at the beauty of fresh snow or a lighted Christmas tree through a stranger’s window. And to sit, with a hot cup of something lovely, on the couch with my dog, and be grateful for another year together. Sweet dreams.

Nothing Much Happens: Cosy & Calming Stories to Soothe Your Mind & Help You Sleep by Kathryn Nicolai, illustrations by Léa Le Pivert Allen & Unwin, $29.99, available now.

“My home would be a haven for the people I loved. They would feel relaxed and cared for.”