The Sounds of Grandads Christmas

Little Tim lived with his parents in a town called West Medina. His Grandad lived opposite in the tiny village of East Medina. 

West Medina was a bustling town with a high street full of shops, bars, and restaurants. East Medina, was a tiny village, with just a few cottages, a church, and a post office. 

The River Medina separated the two areas. It was just over half a mile wide and to cross it travellers could either use the chain ferry or make the longer journey round by road.

The ferry service took less than five minutes to cross and was little Tim's preferred mode of transport. Whenever he was onboard, he would imagine that he was the captain of a wooden pirate ship, crossing a treacherous sea to a desert island where his Grandad, a ruthless pirate, guarded their buried treasure. 

The return journey to West Medina was never quite as exciting, but nevertheless, being a busy river, there was always something interesting for Tim to see.

Tim's Grandad lived in a small cottage that was surrounded by a large private garden. It was full of sweet-smelling flowers and his grandad had turned it into a sensory garden by adding wind chimes, which made it feel and sound like a magical place to visit. 

In the middle of his lawn stood a tall wooden bird table, and every morning, his Grandad would feed his feathered friends. Sometimes even red squirrels would visit to feast on the nuts and bread leftover. 

Tim's Grandad always insisted on leaving a saucer of milk on the doorstep each night for what he called his friendly hedgehog. But Tim doubted the creature’s existence, as neither he nor his grandad had ever seen it. Nonetheless, every morning the milk would be missing, so something was benefitting from the nightly ritual.
Back at his home in West Medina, Tim had no real garden in which to speak of. It was just a small concrete courtyard with a shed and a few scattered pots here and there.

It made Tim's visits to his Grandad's garden all the more special, as it was as if he was entering his very own private adventure playground where he could play for hours, and every now and then, his Grandad would bring him out a tray of tea and biscuits as a special treat.
Tim loved spending time at his Grandad's. The pace of life there seemed less frantic, and he was always made to feel very welcome. 

Home life for Tim was ‌much different. His parents were always too busy to play games with him or read him a story. 

Instead, Tim would just sit in his bedroom, watching cartoons or playing games on his computer.

The cottage in which Grandad lived had a large open log fire in the sitting room, and when lit, it would warm every inch of your body and soul. He didn't have a television. Instead, he would listen to music on his tiny portable radio. 

He would often tell Tim beautiful stories, and sometimes they would play simple games such as I-spy, which his Grandad  always seemed to win, despite being blind from birth.
It was Christmas Eve and Tim's Mum had some last-minute Christmas shopping to do. Tim's father needed to pop into East Medina for an hour to finish off some work, so Tim asked if he could be dropped off at his Grandads on the way.
The ferry service was out of action due to the heavy snow, so they had to make the long journey round by car. When they arrived at Grandad's cottage, He was already waiting on the doorstep.
“Come into the warm, young Tim. I have some mince pies warming up in front of the fire and there's some fresh cream in the fridge for topping.”
After saying goodbye to his father, Tim followed his Grandad into the hallway where he hung  his hat and coat on the enormous stand by the front door, then entered the cosy sitting room. 

Tim's Grandad  had  just put some new logs on the fire, causing them to pop and fizzle as if they were annoyed and angry. 

“Listen to those logs hissing and moaning at me for throwing them onto the fire.”
His Grandad always had a very vivid sense of imagination. That's what made him extra special. Some of the stories he told Tim were far better than any you could read in a book. They were dreamed up in Grandad's imagination.
They both sat in their respective chairs on either side of the log fire and played a quick game of I-spy, which Tim's Grandad won again, of course.

“How do you do that, Grandad, when you can't see?” asked Tim.
“I use my senses. I know where everything in my house is. If I were to play a game of I-spy at your house, I would lose every time.”
“When are you coming to my house next?” Asked Tim.
“I will be there tomorrow. Your Mum and Dad have kindly invited me over for Christmas dinner, and afterwards, you can tell me all about the lovely presents you received from Father Christmas.”
“Now, would you like to see some magic little Tim?”
“Yes, please, Grandad.” Tim said excitedly.
“Very well. Fetch me that large seashell from the window ledge and hold it close to your ear,” Tim did as instructed.
“Now tell me what you can hear?”
“I can hear the sea, Grandad, and I can hear waves crashing against the shore.”
“Every shell has its own distinct sound of the sea. That's Mother Nature's magic! 

Every object in this house has a sound if you know how to listen out for it.”
“Is that how you know where everything is in your house, Grandad?”
“Precisely. Because I was born blind, all my other senses, such as my hearing, smell, and touch, are so much better than the average person's.”
“So how do you know what a Christmas tree looks like, Grandad?”
“That's easy. By using my senses I can feel the texture of the leaves and the smell of pine, then I use my imagination. Anyway, enough of that, before we have our supper, let's put our coats on and go outside to build a giant snowman.”
It had been snowing on and off all day, so when they went out into the garden there was plenty of snow available to build their giant snowman. Grandad fetched a large shovel from his shed, whilst Tim used a much smaller trowel. 

Between them, they managed to build a huge snowman. Grandad used some pieces of coal from the shed for its eyes and coat buttons, while Tim found a carrot in the kitchen to use as its nose.
“We're almost there Tim, go inside and fetch me an old hat and scarf from the stand in the hallway, we must give our snowman some clothes, or he might freeze!” Joked Grandad.
Tim fetched a hat and a scarf from the many hats and scarves hanging on the stand and handed them to his Grandad.
“Perfect, now our snowman is fully dressed for the occasion.”
“Now Tim, just before we go back inside, I want you to listen to the snow as it's falling and tell me what you can hear.” Tim listened for a while, but couldn't hear anything.
“Shall I tell you what I can hear?” His Grandad asked.
“Yes, please, Grandad.”
“I can hear each tiny snowflake as it flutters down from the sky and nestles softly on the ground below. To my left, I can hear someone walking through freshly laid snow, the crunch, crunch, crunch of the snow underfoot.” 

Tim's Grandad then turned to his right. 

“Over in that direction, I can hear the faint sound of bells ringing from St Bartholomew's as the bell ringers practice for tonight's midnight mass. When I look across towards West Medina, I can hear carol singers as they entertain the last minute Christmas shoppers. 

Complete strangers are wishing one another a very merry christmas and a happy new year, and in the background, I can hear the laughter of children as they skate on the open-air ice rink.”
"Wow, you can hear all of that, I can't hear a thing,” said Tim.
“It's not magic this time, Tim. These are the sounds that can only be heard by a blind person; sounds that most sighted people would rarely hear. They are as I imagine them to be. They are The Sounds of Grandad’s Christmas.”
“Wow,” said Tim. “That's wonderful.”
“Now then, little Tim, let's go back inside and get warm by the fire. We can have our supper, and if you're lucky, we may even have time for a story before your dad gets back.”
“Grandad, tomorrow, when we're at my house, can we play a game of I-spy?”
“Of course, we can Tim, of course, we can.”

THE END