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When Is She Coming?
1963.
"Mom, when is she coming?" I asked.
"Soon, Hon," she replied, lighting the last of four candles
on the mantelpiece. "Here, Sweet Pea, why don't you put this
on the table, and calm down." She placed a dish of
chocolate-covered thin mints in my hands.
Shining eyes surveyed the many dishes placed on the table.
With two deep breaths, I pulled in the delicious smells. The
room filled with the scents of roasting turkey, spiced ham,
and seasoned potatoes.
We had turned our home into a Christmas wonderland. At the
end of the family room stood a big fat Christmas tree
sparkling with lights of all shapes; their many colors
glittered in the tinsel and garland. Mary, Joseph, and the
baby Christ, graced a nativity scene on top of the TV
that my brother had put up. On the mantelpiece red and white
candles snuggled in a bed of evergreen. And four red
stockings hung from hooks on the edge of the bricks on the
fireplace.
"Will she like them?" I asked, hopefully. "Mom?"
Stepping from the kitchen entrance, a still-warm pumpkin pie
cradled in her hands she looked at me.
"Will who like what, Kathy?" She suppressed a grin.
"Grandma. Will she like my decorations?" I replied, pointing
to the ceiling.
My mother glanced up at the figures hanging there: a
reindeer, a Santa and his Mrs., and three different
snowflakes. Made from colored construction paper, crayon,
shining glitter, and affixed with small pieces of tape and
loops of old yarn; they hung about two feet from the
ceiling.
"Yes. She should." Smiling, she returned to the kitchen.
I stepped nearer the warm fireplace.
"Kathy, would you shut the door for me?" my father inquired.
I spun around as he entered the family room; arms burdened
with logs. A cold draft from the patio followed him in and
pushed past my legs as I hurried to close the French doors
behind the Christmas tree.
Then, there was a knock at the front door.
"I'll get it...I'll get it." I ran down the hall.
Opening the door, the cardboard Santa fastened to the door
and I greeted her.
"Merry Christmas!" she said, a slight smile playing across
her usually composed face.
"Grandma!" I took it all in; suspended in that moment.
Framed by the Christmas lights strung on the porch and
silhouetted by the misty fog that silvered the night air,
she stood.
Her apparel though a little conservative was always neat and
smelled of Dove soap; her favorite, and fragrant lotions she
used to soften her face and hands. Her gray-white hair,
styled in a soft fashion, was thin and fine. Her appearance
mirrored her quiet and wise nature.
Grandma, loaded down with gifts, freshly baked foods and
desserts, waited at the door.
"Honey, let her in," my mother requested. "And help her with
some of that stuff, please."
I stepped back and took an armful of items from my
grandmother.
"Merry Christmas, Mother," my mother whispered, as she
grasped the older woman to her in a welcoming hug.
Grandma then bent down and settled a warm, strong hand on my
shoulder. "How about you, are you ready for Christmas?"
"Um Hmm!" the rushed reply.
Grandmother walked toward the family room, and I was on her
heels.
"Now what might this be?" she questioned. She looked up at
the objects hanging overhead.
"Decorations," I said.
"Decorations! Hmm...Did you make these, Kathy?" Grandma
asked, wonder in her voice.
"Yep. Do you like them?" I muttered.
"Yes. They are very nice."
Oh...I felt I just might burst apart with pride. I hurriedly
ran down the hall and returned in moments, my hands filled
with more decorations.
"I made these for you, Grandma." I placed my precious
creations into those soft worn hands.
"Oh my. They are very Christmassy. I'll put them up before
you come over tomorrow for dinner." She examined each one
with care and then packed them away in her purse.
*
Christmas Day was crisp and laced with light fog and misty
sunlight as we
pulled into grandma's driveway.
When we walked through the door an abundance of enticing
smells assailed
us. In the center room stood the redwood picnic table. Two
fine--but worn-
-linen tablecloths covered the weathered wood. Red and white
candles
burned on the makeshift dining table. And three colorful
wreaths of
evergreen added a rich fragrance to the air. Many Christmas
cards framed
the door and entryway. And hung from the ceiling were the
Christmas
decorations I had made.
Placing a platter of seasoned roast beef on the table, she
glanced up; an
irresistible grin on her face, as she winked knowingly at
me.
The family circled the table, hand in hand, as Grandma spoke
the blessing.
Grandma's house embraced all who visited it in a warm
welcome. It
reflected her simple tastes; she did not have much in the
way of creature
comforts, but she kept an immaculate house. It was a home
you might
easily feel apart of and this Christmas Day was no
exception.
**
Epilogue
Up through her late 60's, Grandmother worked 10 hours a day;
6 days a
week, at an industrial laundry. At the same time, she took
care of my
grandfather who had Lou Gehrig's disease. At 65 she opted to
reduce her
work week, from 6 days a week to 3 or 4 days a week, (and
stayed there
until she was in her early 70's).
In 1984 we noticed Grandmother's normal functioning seemed
impaired and
we decided to take her to the doctor. Shortly after
Christmas,
Grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimers.
*
Belatedly I have learned not to wish for only the special
times. It is
like wishing your life's time away. I found it always
frustrating to have
to wait for the special times with my grandmother. I should
have made the
mundane moments special, too.
***
Copyright 1991 by Kathy Anne Harris
***
I am an author and four of my books have been published.
They are
available at Amazon.com, Borders.com, Xlibris.com, and other
online
dealers. You can also order them from your local bookstore.
I also write
poetry. I'm not really restricted to any genre when writing
which opens
up a world of creative subjects for me to write about. I
enjoy the
freedom this gives me as I have a very vivid imagination and
I love to
observe the world around me. It is a great stage from which
to draw
inspiration. I am a social worker by day, a writer by life.
I live in CA.
Kathy Anne Harris
bluebelliedlizard@earthlink.net
"Acquiring a dog may be the only opportunity a human ever
has to choose a
relative." - Mordecai Siegal
"Besides love and sympathy, animals exhibit other qualities
connected
with the social instincts which in us would be called
moral." - Charles
Darwin
My website:
http://mistdrifter.tripod.com/ToShareWithYou.html
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blessings to you today
Bob Johnston
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