Keeping Christmas Read online

  “You’re not going to eat anything?”

  “I may eat a few pieces of turkey later. But don’t worry about it.”

  He stood there a moment. Her eyes shifted from him back to the spot in the side yard she had been staring at before. “You going to just sit there all night?”

  “No. Not all night.”

  “Are you going to do anything with these decorations, the ones on the table? Or these boxes of ornaments?”

  “I suppose so, eventually. Not in the mood right now.”

  “Well, how about the Christmas movie? Still want to do that tonight?” That had been their end-of-the-day, day-after-Thanksgiving tradition. Watch a movie together. The house all decorated. The leftovers all served. The food put away. The dishes done. Then everyone would gather in the living room to eat dessert and watch a Christmas movie. Not always the same one each year. They’d vote between a few that the family considered classics: It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Carol, A Christmas Story. In recent years, Elf had been added to the ranks.

  “Maybe,” she said. “In a little while.”

  “Since it’s just you and me, we won’t vote. I’ll let you pick which one.”

  “Right, just you and me. No need to vote.”

  Okay, that kinda backfired. Slowly, he walked toward her and sat on the edge of the matching upholstered chair, trying to think of something to say. Nothing came. She glanced his way but didn’t say anything either. He had never seen her like this before. Generally, if one of them was silent, it was him.

  Finally she said, “I’ve realized something. Without the kids, I have no purpose in life.”

  “What? That’s not true. You’ve got all kinds of purpose.”

  “Like what? Name one thing I do that’s important or essential. One thing I do that makes a difference.”

  All kinds of things started popping off in his head. Keep the house. Cook the meals. Buy the food. Do the laundry. Keep their schedule straight. Remember birthdays and anniversaries, for their kids and grandkids. And there were probably lots of other things he wasn’t thinking of. They all seemed important to him, but he knew they weren’t things she’d consider important or essential.

  “See,” she said, “you know it’s true.”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t think it, because it isn’t true. You do all kinds of important things. Maybe they’re not absolutely essential in the big scheme of life, but they’re certainly things that matter to us. Things that keep life running fairly smooth around here. If you didn’t buy the food and cook it, we’d starve. If you didn’t clean the clothes, we’d start to stink and look like bums.”

  She smiled. It wasn’t a big one, but it was something.

  “I’m not talking about things like that,” she said. “I know they matter in their own way. Maybe I should’ve said the word meaningful. I don’t do anything meaningful, anything that makes a real difference. I’ve been so focused on our kids and grandkids for so many years. With them out of the picture, there goes my purpose in life. I’m not even a part-time mom or grandmother anymore. And now, not even on holidays.”

  Stan didn’t know what to say. He thought she sounded a little bit like Jimmy Stewart’s character George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life. In the movie, George was at his wit’s end and thought the world would be better off if he had never been born. Stan was about to suggest they should watch that movie tonight. But then he realized that movie had a happy ending and George Bailey got all kinds of help from an angel named Clarence.

  Stan didn’t have that kind of help here tonight. And he sure didn’t have any idea how to turn this dilemma into a happy ending.

  9

  On Saturday afternoon, Judith wasn’t doing any better. If anything, she awoke that morning to a greater sense of gloom than she’d experienced before bed last night. It probably didn’t help that Stan had gotten called into work early that morning, which meant she’d been alone all day.

  Of course, it wasn’t as if Stan being there would’ve made all that much difference. He wasn’t exactly a Grade-A conversationalist. But his absence accentuated the emptiness she felt inside. She walked over and sat on the sofa, glanced up at the clock on the wall. Betty would be here in a few minutes to take her on their promised shopping excursion downtown. The plan was for the men to join them at five for a bite to eat. Then they’d join the throng gathering around Donnelly Park to watch them turn the Christmas lights on all over town.

  She wasn’t sure that part of the plan would work anymore. Stan said before he left that he had been scheduled to work until four today. But they were so busy, all bets were off now. He said he’d text her when he knew something sure.

  She glanced down at the three boxes of ornaments on the coffee table in front of her and read the label of the box on top. She couldn’t help but smile as she reread the label Stan had written: The Ugly Ornaments. She lifted the lid and pulled out the few sitting on top, the ones Betty had opened yesterday when she was here. Judith wanted to see the kids’ favorites once again. They had made all of them over many years, but somehow each of the kids had managed to pick a favorite. One they liked more than all the rest.

  Judith had her own favorites, but they weren’t the same ones the kids had picked. Hers, you could say, were the least ugly ones in the box. She pulled the box closer and began taking out more ornaments and setting them on the coffee table, leaving them wrapped. She had stored the kids’ favorites in bright green wrapping paper to make them easier to find.

  In a few moments, she’d found all three. She hesitated before unwrapping them. Each one contained so many memories. She picked up the largest of the three, knowing whose it was by its size. Anna’s blue pinecone. She unwrapped it.

  They’d had such fun the day seven-year-old Anna had made it, and she’d been so proud. It turned out just the way she’d hoped. It was an oversized pinecone to start with, which meant it would always be relegated to the lower boughs of the Christmas tree. But that was okay, because in those early years, that was as far as Anna could reach. Judith’s idea had been to spray paint it green, like a miniature Christmas tree. She had little red plastic beads that Anna could glue on to serve as tiny ornaments.

  That was the plan anyway.

  But Anna’s favorite color back then, and for many years after, was light blue. So she wanted her pinecone to be light blue. Judith had only bought green spray paint. Anna reminded her she had some light blue paint left over in a jar from a previous art project at school. She was so eager and excited about the prospect that Judith couldn’t say no. Of course, the light blue came out all splotchy from being dabbed on with a brush by a seven-year-old.

  Then Anna became impatient and wasn’t willing to let the paint dry before gluing on the little red beads. Judith had left her alone at the table for a few minutes to check on dinner. When she returned, Anna had already glued on half of them. The red beads had light blue paint all over them and globs of Elmer’s glue too. But Anna didn’t mind. “Look, Mom!” she had said. “I’m almost done.”

  Judith had let her finish, and the end result was sitting before her now on the coffee table. My, my . . . it was a sight to behold. She slid it to one side, pulled one of the other two ornaments near, and unwrapped it. “Look at that,” she said aloud.

  It was Brandon’s skeleton snowman. That was the nickname it had acquired over the years. Originally, it was bright white but now was a pale shade of yellow. Brandon had followed her directions carefully when making it. They never could quite figure out what went wrong. The idea was to form two doughnuts out of salt dough, one bigger than the other, to create the snowman’s body. Then they rolled up a little dough ball to make its head. They layered the three sections on top of each other, and she let Brandon poke little holes with a toothpick in the front for buttons. With the same toothpick, he poked holes in the head to make eyes, a nose, and a smile. They baked it in the oven for two hours to harden everything up.

  At some point, the whole thing had
shifted sideways like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and two cracks opened up in the back. The holes Brandon made in the head expanded a little, which changed the snowman’s expression . . . a lot. It really did resemble a skull. Hence, the nickname “the skeleton snowman.”

  Judith had attempted to console him, suggesting they try again. But Brandon didn’t care. He liked it just the way it was. And over time, it had become his favorite.

  She reached for the third wrapped ornament, already knowing what it was. Suzanne’s alien nativity set. The most disturbing one of all. It wasn’t an entire nativity set, just Joseph, Mary, and baby Jesus. Well, that had been the idea. Judith unwrapped it and shook her head as she gazed at the horrific faces her little eight-year-old Suzanne had unintentionally painted on the figurines.

  The original design idea was very cute. Three little figures, different sizes. Very simple. They reminded Judith of little Fisher-Price people made of wood instead of plastic. Little pieces of blue burlap were wrapped around Mary and Joseph, then glued on to serve as clothes. A little white cloth over Mary’s head served as a scarf. Then Jesus was angled sideways against Mary and Joseph and glued to make it look like they were holding him.

  They were only supposed to paint the heads a light peach color and leave it at that. But Suzanne had insisted they needed to have faces, and she wanted to paint them. Wanting to encourage creativity, Judith agreed. But when Suzanne was done, the faces didn’t look right. It took Judith a moment to figure out what they reminded her of: space aliens. The face that everyone always associates with extraterrestrial beings: great big dark eyes, two dots for a nose, and a tiny sliver for a mouth.

  Judith didn’t want to make her feel bad, so she didn’t say anything. When Stan got home, Suzanne proudly showed him her achievement, and he laughed out loud. “They look like aliens.” Suzanne had shouted back, “No, they don’t!” and ran to her room.

  But they did.

  And, of course, that was what they had been called ever since. Even Suzanne, a few years later, had been able to laugh along with everyone else every time she hung it on the tree.

  Judith sighed.

  That wouldn’t happen this year. Suzanne was not here to hang her alien nativity ornament on the tree. Brandon would not hang his skeleton snowman. And Anna wouldn’t hang her blue pinecone either.

  Memories. That was what Christmastime meant to her. Recalling wonderful family times and creating new ones.

  Judith wrapped all three of the ornaments up, set them back in the box, and closed the lid.

  10

  Betty had just arrived to pick Judith up. As she came into the living room, she looked around. “Guess you never got in the mood to do your Christmas decorations yesterday?”

  Judith walked toward the front door. “Nope, never did.”

  “Hopefully that’ll change once we hang out downtown a little while. I drove up Donnelly Avenue on my way here. It looks wonderful. The Christmas decorations are already up.” Betty followed Judith out to the car.

  They drove down the road back toward Donnelly Avenue, the main road that would take them to the center of town. The neighborhood was filled with shady trees and smaller, older homes like hers. And Judith loved the hills. Almost the entire state of Florida was absolutely flat. You could drive in some parts of the state for hours and the only elevation you’d see was a highway overpass.

  Not in Mount Dora. Mount Dora had plenty of hills.

  They were driving down one now as they approached Donnelly Avenue. Judith smiled as she thought of the town’s name. Mount Dora. She read somewhere that the highest point in the city was 184 feet above sea level. A virtual mountaintop in Florida. They sold T-shirts to tourists downtown that said “I Climbed Mount Dora.” It was meant to be a joke, but as she got older, Judith found that getting around certain parts of the downtown area was a true test of strength.

  Betty turned left, and in a few minutes they were approaching downtown. “As you might expect, it’s pretty crowded now. Saturdays are always more crowded, but this being the first official weekend for Christmas shopping, it’s even worse. We’re probably going to have to do some walking.”

  “I expected that,” Judith said. “As long as we stay in the center of town and don’t wander down by the lake. It’s not the going down part, it’s the climbing back up.”

  “I’m with you there.” Betty turned left down one of the side streets. “I usually find a parking place pretty easily if I come one street back.”

  Sure enough, they found an open spot on Baker Street near the intersection with 5th Avenue. Judith was glad. They were only a block away from the stores. It was a beautiful day out, which brightened her mood somewhat. In between the trees, she felt the warmth of the sun on her arms. That was the thing about winters in central Florida; they could be chilly one year and mild the next. Really, it could be that way on any given week, which was why she always carried a sweater or light jacket whenever she went out. Right now she had a sweater slung over her arm.

  They walked slightly downhill past Donnelly Park, the Community Building on her right. She had been to so many events there over the years. Looked like something was going on right now. The Community Building was where the big Light Up ceremony would take place in a few hours.

  As they neared the corner steps, she could already see the thousands of Christmas lights strung up through the park trees. She remembered from previous years just how amazing it was when they first turned them on. And they’d turn on lights up and down the streets of the downtown area. It made her proud to be a citizen of such a wonderful place.

  Mount Dora had changed so little since she and Stan had moved here forty years ago, which was a large part of its charm. They had fallen in love with it on their first visit, in their first year of marriage. Both of them had been born up north but had moved to Florida as young children, so they’d always felt like native Floridians. Their parents had moved them, about a year apart, to the Tampa Bay area, which was where she and Stan had spent their middle and high school years. Tampa was a much bigger city, the third largest in the state.

  When they drove through Mount Dora on that first trip, the town instantly reminded them of the small towns they remembered as children up north . . . complete with large shady trees and rolling hills. And the quaint little downtown area . . . it was perfect. Like something out of the 1950s. They decided right then and there, this was where they wanted to move and raise their kids.

  Judith had thought her children loved small-town life as much as she and Stan did. When they were younger, they seemed very happy and talked about living here forever. But now, as she stood at the intersection waiting for the light to change, she wondered . . . did her kids still feel that way? How could they? All three of them now lived in big cities.

  She felt Betty tug on her arm. She looked up.

  “We can walk now.”

  “Oh.” She hurried across the street, along with a small crowd of fellow shoppers.

  “Where were you just now?” Betty asked. “Judging by the look on your face, it wasn’t a fun place.”

  “You don’t want to know.” They stepped up onto the sidewalk. “Besides, that’s why we’re here, right? To get my mind in a better place?”

  Betty was determined to cheer her friend up. She had never seen Judith so down. She understood why. Well, she couldn’t really understand; her kids and grandkids had been all around the dinner table on Thanksgiving. Same as every year. But she could imagine.

  The downtown area was quite crowded. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood, so that helped. And of course, every building, every store window, even the streetlights were decorated for Christmas. She glanced over at Judith as they walked past the first store. Something had definitely caught her eye in the window. “You want to go in?”

  “Sure.”

  Betty walked up to her. “What did you see?”

  “Oh, there’s all kinds of nice things in this store.”

  “I thought I saw you
looking at one thing in particular.”

  “It was just this little Christmas town display here.” She pointed to it. “I always thought about doing one of these. Collecting all these little houses and buildings. I especially like the ones that move.”

  “Like those little ice-skaters?” Betty asked.

  “Yes. And look at that little snowy mountain, with the skiers going down.”

  It really was cute. “Let’s go inside. There are even more.”

  In the store, the collection expanded down the far wall a ways. “Look at this one, Judith. Miniature kids making snow angels. And right behind those little trees, see the kids in the snow playing tug-of-war.” Betty watched Judith’s eyes. It was working. She was beginning to enjoy herself.

  “Look up on that hill,” Judith said. “Three little boys all bundled up, gathered around a fire.”

  It was just precious. The little logs flickered with yellow and orange lights, as if they were on fire. The boys held their gloved hands forward, as if being warmed by the flames. “I love all the buildings too. You have to look in the windows, especially the ones lit up. There’s all kinds of things happening inside them. Like this bakery. Look at all the little Christmas desserts in the storefront window.”

  Judith bent over to see.

  “Which one is your favorite?” Betty asked. “Of all the ones here.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I like so many of them.”

  “Well, pick two that you’d really like. We can start your collection today. You buy one, and I’ll buy the other. It’ll be an early Christmas present.”

  Judith straightened up. “No, I can’t do that.”

  “Sure you can. What’s stopping you?”

  “Look how much space they take up. Where would I put them if I started collecting them?”

  “You’ve got all kinds of space in that big Florida room. We could move a few things around, free up one of the corners.”