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The man had just filled
his car with gas; he was cold, wet, and ready to head for home. He
opened his car door and bent down to climb inside…
“Sir, sir…”
He glanced in the
direction of the frail voice to find a well-dressed, elderly lady
attempting to get his attention.
He closed the car door
and walked towards her. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
The older woman explained
that the gas pump was not working properly, and asked if he knew what
she was doing wrong.
“These are new pumps and
very touchy—even for me. I’ve found the easiest thing to do is forget
locking them while I fill; they keep shutting off for some reason.”
“Oh my! I can’t keep
pressure on that handle until my tank is full. My hands don’t have much
strength in them anymore.” She cast her blue eyes to the ground in
frustration.
“I’d be honored to fill
your tank for you!” The man’s Texas accent was gentle and he gave her a
little wink. “By the way, I love your British accent.”
“Yes, a British accent in
Texas…people always notice!” She smiled. “We just came to the States a
few years ago. That’s my husband in the car.” She paused for a moment,
“He has Alzheimer’s now.”
“I’m so very sorry…for
both of you.” After a slight lull the gentleman continued. “Why don’t
you get back in the car while I do this; the snow is picking up and
you’re going to get wet.”
She was a lovely woman
with snowy-white hair; her attire was prim and proper as one would
expect from a Brit. “I’d rather visit if you don’t mind. Our son is
out of town for Christmas; he’s with his wife’s family this year and I’m
feeling a bit blue.”
A knot formed in the
Texan’s throat and he hoped to change the subject. “Just what are the
two of you doing out in this weather? I hope your drive home is a short
one. You know these Texas drivers aren’t the best when it comes to snow
and sleet,” he teased.
“We’re on our way home
from a Christmas party. The medical center has one each year for the
Alzheimer patients. They are rather like children’s parties—and they
have Santa visit. Oftentimes patients will have moments they recall
things from their past. Some sing along to Christmas carols when they
haven’t carried on an actual conversation in quite a long while.”
“Did anyone recognize
Santa today?”
“Oh, yes, my husband
recognized Santa and tried to steal his hat! He even said, ‘Ho, ho, ho—Merry Christmas.’ His
recollection was rather brief but it was the highlight of my day.” She
grinned.
The gas pump clicked off,
the woman swiped her credit card to make payment, and turned to thank
the man who had been willing to help her. The two were saying their
farewells when the squeal of brakes, a thud, and breaking glass at the
intersection caught their attention.
“Oh, my!” The lady
whimpered with a distressed expression. “It’s getting so slick. I’ve
got to hurry and get home.”
“Ma’am, I’d be honored to
follow you in case you have problems.”
She hesitated momentarily
and then appeared relieved, “Oh, I’d be so grateful. I can’t thank you
enough. And by the way, my name is Margaret.” She reached out to shake
hands with her new friend.
“Margaret, I’m pleased to
make your acquaintance. My name is Ray.” He patted her hand gently
before they released their grasp. “You just drive slowly; I’ll be right
behind you.”
When Margaret pulled into
her garage Ray stopped curbside. “I just want to be sure you get inside
safely,” he shouted.
Margaret waved and asked
him to wait for a moment—then nodded and spoke to her neighbor hanging
Christmas lights. She guided John into the house, quickly reappeared in
the garage, and motioned for Ray to pull into the driveway.
She thanked Ray again and
soon mentioned this being the first Christmas she and her husband had
ever spent alone. Ray, always a soft touch for older folks, was happy
to listen. She spoke fondly of traditions her family adhered to when
she was a child in England and revealed an interesting glimpse into her
past…plus a taste of her cherished memories from across the pond.
“You know mistletoe is
very traditional in England. My first “real” kiss was under the
mistletoe when I was a teenager. Oh, what memories I have.” For a
split second, Margaret looked like a young girl again.
Several minutes passed
before Margaret began to shiver and they were forced to say farewell.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christmas morn found
Margaret peeking out her front door just as the sun crested the
horizon. She stepped outside, instantly clasped her hands like a small
child, and peered up and down the street. With not a soul in sight she
began to examine the items discovered on her porch…each one dredged up
memories of years gone by in Merry Old England.
Just above her head hung
an arrangement of mistletoe adorned with elegant lace; she touched it
gently. Bedecked with Victorian ornaments, a small, lighted Christmas
tree sat in the corner—beneath it a homemade mincemeat
pie wrapped securely and tied with golden ribbon. The card attached
said only, “From: Santa.” Hanging from the doorknob a brilliant red
Santa Claus hat with tag, “To: John.”
Margaret called to John;
he slowly made his way and stepped outside. Nothing on the porch
sparked his interest until Margaret placed the Santa hat in his hands.
After staring at it and stroking the velvety softness, he plopped it
onto his head. It sat askew but John’s face beamed as his voice rang
out across the neighborhood, “Ho, ho, ho! Ho, ho, ho!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Parked several houses away, a Secret Texas
Santa sniffed and wiped at a lone tear… a happy tear. “Merry Christmas
and God Bless.” He smiled and turned towards home.
©2007Kathleene S. Baker
Lnstrlady@aol.com
www.txyellowrose.com |
