Christmas
Now that December is upon us – my thoughts for the month.
I love this month. Liss has made it into something that I never fully appreciated before. It is special – magical – yet melancholy at the same time. Maybe because I spent so many of them alone, overseas, wanting what I never realized I missed before. Nonetheless, December has come to be my favorite month. To continue:
A young woman, recently promoted at her firm, looks out of her window at the thick flakes of snow falling gently to earth. It is now eight o’clock and she has stayed far past the time when she swore, to her mother no less, that she would leave. The elevator seems to take forever but she finally reaches the lobby saying goodnight, and Merry Christmas, to the security guards before pushing out into the street. Walking north on Congress, she turns left on Franklin, then makes her way to Tremont. At this time of night, in the middle of winter, the Common is almost empty, except for a few kids having snowball fights with their parents. Sitting down, she watches, remembering the winters in Omaha, and her brothers showering her with snowballs on the way home from school.
Catching herself, she slowly trudges through the snow of the park, toward Marlborough Street, where she paid way too much for a small brownstone wedged between two immaculate homes that she could never even hope to be invited to. Noticing the lights on in one, she watches from the street as a family gathers together for the holiday, knowing that this is something that she will probably never have. The thought of the Charles river, a couple of blocks over, puts itself away, as she walks up the steps, unlocks the door, and enters her, again, cold and empty flat.
It was cold, and wet, outside as Melanie put the kids to bed. A sudden storm had brought more snow than expected and she had not been ready. Mom and Dad were asleep in the kids bedroom, with the kids asleep in her bed. Looking at them now, she realized what a gift she had been given by God. It’s not like she never understood it before, but with Caleb gone, she had to really focus on the kids like never before. Caleb had enlisted two months after they were wed, his response to the attacks. She didn't realize at the time what it really meant, but now that he was on his second tour of Iraq, it was becoming pretty clear. His second Christmas over there, and again she found herself alone, 24 years old, and trying to make sure the kids had a good Christmas in Colorado. Thank God for her parents, because she sure was a mess. After checking on the kids again, she went back into the living room, coffee in hand, and sat down on the couch.
As the snow fell she sat, alone, and wished the damn thing would just be over so her Caleb could come home. She turned toward the hall at the sound of feet padding along. “Mommy, can I lay down with you?”
“Sure baby, come here.”
The wind was blowing hard as he made his way west from the Navy pier. Christmas in Chicago is supposed to be special, magical, and magnificent; yet he was alone once again. The small bakery on Rush was still open, so he bought a loaf to go with the cheese and proscuitto in the fridge, along with a bottle of red – What the hell, he thought, and bought two bottles. It was almost nine o’clock now, and the wind was blowing steadily from the lake as he made his way up Ohio street to his apartment. Once in the place, with the lights turned on, he understood what his father had told hime many years ago, just as he graduated from college, and went into the kitchen to take the rest of the food out, making the best of where he found himself. It wasn’t that he wanted to be alone on Christmas Eve, just that he really had no where else to go, or anyone to spend it with. He walked out onto his balcony, twenty four floors up, and looked into the wind, toward the lake. There was so much snow coming in now that he couldn’t see anything, so he went back inside, turned on the tv, and watched It’s A Wonderful Life once again - God he hated that movie! As the second bottle fell to the floor, he slept.
A lot of folks are overseas this time of year, doing what their government has told them to do. I did over seven years in the Army, active duty, and while I did not deploy for the Gulf War, I had to help prepare several friends who did go over there. I still cannot listen to that damned Lee Greenwood song, for it makes me tear up, and angry, at the thought of what I have come to realize is my family, leaving their kids at home, while they go do the hard work for the country. Many young wives will be trying to figure out what to do for the kids this Christmas, while their husbands are deployed. Grandparents, boyfriends and husbands will be trying to figure out how to make sure that their kids have a great holiday, while Mom is overseas trying to make the best of things.
A large number of other Americans, not in the military, will be having their holidays alone, bitter or dejected, sad, angry, lost, or simply away from home with no way to return. Even many of those who seem to not be affected by the holidays will soon recall the days of their youth on the farms of the plains, the forests of the Mid-Atlantic, the cold, slick streets of Brooklyn, or even the desert Christmas’s of the southwest. They need to know, as do our men and women in uniform, that they are not alone, and that we are thinking of them.
As I write this, the kids are tucked into bed, the fire is beginning to die out, and the lights on the Christmas trees need to be turned off. The baby is sleeping soundly on the bed behind me, and the cat is driving me nuts trying to open the bathroom door. The house is warm and cozy, with the wind picking up a bit outside. I know that my wife will be returning from work in a few hours, and crawling into the nice warm bed with me and Meghan.
Many don’t have this.
Please keep them in your prayers.
And think about them.
And tell them “Merry Christmas.”
I love this month. Liss has made it into something that I never fully appreciated before. It is special – magical – yet melancholy at the same time. Maybe because I spent so many of them alone, overseas, wanting what I never realized I missed before. Nonetheless, December has come to be my favorite month. To continue:
A young woman, recently promoted at her firm, looks out of her window at the thick flakes of snow falling gently to earth. It is now eight o’clock and she has stayed far past the time when she swore, to her mother no less, that she would leave. The elevator seems to take forever but she finally reaches the lobby saying goodnight, and Merry Christmas, to the security guards before pushing out into the street. Walking north on Congress, she turns left on Franklin, then makes her way to Tremont. At this time of night, in the middle of winter, the Common is almost empty, except for a few kids having snowball fights with their parents. Sitting down, she watches, remembering the winters in Omaha, and her brothers showering her with snowballs on the way home from school.
Catching herself, she slowly trudges through the snow of the park, toward Marlborough Street, where she paid way too much for a small brownstone wedged between two immaculate homes that she could never even hope to be invited to. Noticing the lights on in one, she watches from the street as a family gathers together for the holiday, knowing that this is something that she will probably never have. The thought of the Charles river, a couple of blocks over, puts itself away, as she walks up the steps, unlocks the door, and enters her, again, cold and empty flat.
It was cold, and wet, outside as Melanie put the kids to bed. A sudden storm had brought more snow than expected and she had not been ready. Mom and Dad were asleep in the kids bedroom, with the kids asleep in her bed. Looking at them now, she realized what a gift she had been given by God. It’s not like she never understood it before, but with Caleb gone, she had to really focus on the kids like never before. Caleb had enlisted two months after they were wed, his response to the attacks. She didn't realize at the time what it really meant, but now that he was on his second tour of Iraq, it was becoming pretty clear. His second Christmas over there, and again she found herself alone, 24 years old, and trying to make sure the kids had a good Christmas in Colorado. Thank God for her parents, because she sure was a mess. After checking on the kids again, she went back into the living room, coffee in hand, and sat down on the couch.
As the snow fell she sat, alone, and wished the damn thing would just be over so her Caleb could come home. She turned toward the hall at the sound of feet padding along. “Mommy, can I lay down with you?”
“Sure baby, come here.”
The wind was blowing hard as he made his way west from the Navy pier. Christmas in Chicago is supposed to be special, magical, and magnificent; yet he was alone once again. The small bakery on Rush was still open, so he bought a loaf to go with the cheese and proscuitto in the fridge, along with a bottle of red – What the hell, he thought, and bought two bottles. It was almost nine o’clock now, and the wind was blowing steadily from the lake as he made his way up Ohio street to his apartment. Once in the place, with the lights turned on, he understood what his father had told hime many years ago, just as he graduated from college, and went into the kitchen to take the rest of the food out, making the best of where he found himself. It wasn’t that he wanted to be alone on Christmas Eve, just that he really had no where else to go, or anyone to spend it with. He walked out onto his balcony, twenty four floors up, and looked into the wind, toward the lake. There was so much snow coming in now that he couldn’t see anything, so he went back inside, turned on the tv, and watched It’s A Wonderful Life once again - God he hated that movie! As the second bottle fell to the floor, he slept.
A lot of folks are overseas this time of year, doing what their government has told them to do. I did over seven years in the Army, active duty, and while I did not deploy for the Gulf War, I had to help prepare several friends who did go over there. I still cannot listen to that damned Lee Greenwood song, for it makes me tear up, and angry, at the thought of what I have come to realize is my family, leaving their kids at home, while they go do the hard work for the country. Many young wives will be trying to figure out what to do for the kids this Christmas, while their husbands are deployed. Grandparents, boyfriends and husbands will be trying to figure out how to make sure that their kids have a great holiday, while Mom is overseas trying to make the best of things.
A large number of other Americans, not in the military, will be having their holidays alone, bitter or dejected, sad, angry, lost, or simply away from home with no way to return. Even many of those who seem to not be affected by the holidays will soon recall the days of their youth on the farms of the plains, the forests of the Mid-Atlantic, the cold, slick streets of Brooklyn, or even the desert Christmas’s of the southwest. They need to know, as do our men and women in uniform, that they are not alone, and that we are thinking of them.
As I write this, the kids are tucked into bed, the fire is beginning to die out, and the lights on the Christmas trees need to be turned off. The baby is sleeping soundly on the bed behind me, and the cat is driving me nuts trying to open the bathroom door. The house is warm and cozy, with the wind picking up a bit outside. I know that my wife will be returning from work in a few hours, and crawling into the nice warm bed with me and Meghan.
Many don’t have this.
Please keep them in your prayers.
And think about them.
And tell them “Merry Christmas.”
posted by Unknown at 9:22 PM
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