Christmas 1981
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Christmas 1981
I had always loved Christmas, but it was special that year. Like all
else in my life Christmas had not actually changed; the lights were no
brighter, and the first snow was just as brilliant. However, I
realized that the holiday could easily be my last, and I wanted my
final memories to be vivid.
To make the most of the day, preparations were always begun directly
after Thanksgiving. The Indian corn was packed away and the Christmas
decorations took their place, transforming the house into an
inescapable reminder of love and happiness. Each ornament, given to me
by Mom for my own future tree, I unwrapped with care, wooden men, mice
with glasses, corn husk dolls... they added life to a sapless tree.
Cookie baking commenced following Thanksgiving also, and continued
sporadically up to the 23rd of December. Because Mom was engaged with
her kindergarteners, I often baked the bulk of the cookies during the
season. Dad and Norm also appreciated my endeavor, but for reasons
unrelated to Mom's.
The most fun I had was shopping for gifts. Norm did not share my
enthusiasm in this area. His miserly side sometimes bloated to
monstrous proportions, and since he seldom indulged in frivolous
expenditures, he saw no reason to do so for anyone else. However, more
than having a penchant for saving money or a distaste toward giving
unneeded gifts, his aggravation could have been a result of his
agoraphobic nature; Christmas meant shopping and shopping meant stores,
and stores meant people, and all four elements meant chaos and
incredible stress for Norm. Occasionally we would stop and browse in a
shop if he was not nervous, especially when we were on one of our
drives that skirted small towns; otherwise we avoided heavily crowded
public areas.
After Thanksgiving my brother and I drove to the Amana Colonies in
lowa, a tourist attraction in themselves. We wandered into several
shops. At one, a shop selling woolens, we happened upon a shearling
coat of rugged beauty and timeless appeal.
"What a coat..." Norm inspected the workmanship and overall appearance
with something akin to awe.
"I wonder if I should try it on..."
"Go ahead!"
I had never witnessed Norm so utterly engrossed by something of
material significance. He slid the coat off its hanger and,
shouldering the bulky hide, stepped before the mirror. Few people
could have pulled off a look like that; he resembled a veteran
mountaineer.
"It really looks good," I said.
"Yeh, not bad, huh?" It wasn't immodest; it was true. He replaced the
coat and, giving it a long look in parting, strolled out of the store.
"That was some coat," he raved. Norm talked about it all the way home.
Half-way home I knew what I was going to buy him for Christmas.
The following afternoon found my dad and me on the highway, heading for
the colony so I could buy the sheepskin coat. Clenching my purse, I
couldn't wait to relinquish the folded bills in my wallet.
"This is going to be the best Christmas!" I exclaimed.
Dad looked at me as if I had slipped into lunacy. I hadn't expected
him to understand; he was too bitter about my recurrence of cancer.
I thought of the previous Christmas when Norm had given me the gold
watch necklace. I had been flabbergasted, not only because of the
great expense, but because of the love expressed through its purchase.
The coat was a similar expression, plus a great deal of gratitude. I
needed to say thanks in a way that would last. I never stopped to
calculate the length of a lifetime, but believed the coat would survive
that long.
On Christmas Eve the gifts were opened.
"Norm, what do you think of mine?" I baited him.
"Didn't you get my gift yet?" I continued.
He looked about his feet for unopened packages, but found nothing. I
knew he would not; the coat was still in my closet.
"Oh! I guess it's still upstairs!" I raced up the steps to retrieve
the coat, then decided to put it on and wear it downstairs.
Unable to rid my voice of its smile, I presented him with the coat
hanger.
"It's all yours," I said.
Norm looked at the hanger, the coat, at me, at the coat again.
"You're kidding..."
"No!"
Tears welled up in his eyes as the truth sunk in. Perhaps Norm best
described the way he was feeling when he said. . . "what a load!"
It was almost more than a person could handle.
We took a nighttime stroll after our celebration ended. The air was
crisp and clear and stars blinked like thousands of tree lights. Apart
from our conversation all was silent, befitting the midnight hush.
This was, indeed, the best Christmas.
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