A Holiday Story
This is a different Christmas for me this year. Yes, it is a strange time. Something is in the air – a feeling that all is not quite right – all things not well. Here at home on Pollock Road, a presence seems to linger unseen – in a closet – under a chair – or behind the stove. Strange things – unexpected, unexplained things – happened in recent days to relegate the holiday season to minor significance for me. Is this really December 2002 already? The calendar says so, but my mind and heart say not.
I walk into the living room, plop down on the sofa, a bit tired and feeling defeated. I don’t know why, I just do. Maybe it has something to do with a green apple I ate this morning, I don’t know. I reach over the pick up something to look at and read – a small book off the coffee table. Seasonal magazines and books: when did I put them there – last week? The appearance of the little book only seems to confirm my feelings and the air of uncertainty. Rather than sporting a face of Santa or innocent children, the book cover features a likeness of a little green creature. A cat? A green cat? How did that odd little book get on my coffee table? Maybe this is just a sale flier for toys for unimaginative children.
I think about the holiday. Christmas. Where is it this year? It is certainly not here on Pollock Road. Seems like just another day to me. A house to clean, cats and dogs to feed, food to cook, and I feel tired already. Is this depression, or am I actually tired from my work. I don’t know. I have cleaned up the breakfast dishes, made the bed, and scrubbed the tub. I need to repair a hole in Sean’s knit sweater.
Here I am with a children’s book. It appears to be a book about a green cat and some snow. It must be the winter holiday season, for there is a holiday tree on one of the pages. Good artist drawings. I must show this to Sean. As I pause to look at a page, a tear wells up in my eyes. Then something strange happens. The picture on the page becomes blurry. I wipe the tear out of my eyes, but the picture is different now. Have I turned the page, I wonder? No, I am still on the same page. As I look, the picture catches my attention – and somewhat frightens me.
In the picture, I am sitting at a computer. My face suggests that I am not happy for some reason. In one hand, I am holding up a phone receiver saying, "Static, static – again!" Obviously, there is something wrong with the phone. And the computer doesn’t seem to work. Near the right side of the picture, the green cat is looking in the window. He has a smirky pleased expression on his face. He writes on a note pad: Phone out, one week.
Is this a bad dream or what? I turn the page. It’s that green apple, I am sure. I gasp. This page shows my father-in-law in a hospital bed. He has a broken arm and shoulder, and has just been wheeled into the room from surgery. Near the edge of the picture, looking in the door, is that green cat – grinch, I think the book calls it. He seems to have a false sense of sorrow on his face. Indeed, the edges of his face seem to sport the beginnings of a smile. He is holding that strange little note pad with these words on it: one broken arm, one broken shoulder.
I turn that page. How did that get in there? Obviously a misprint. Maybe this is just a bad golden raisin or prune. The following page is a weird one, though I recognize the scene. There is a little grave underneath a shed. I appears to be the grave of my favorite dog, who died recently. The death was a total surprise, and a sorrowful time for me and my family. What’s that? Near the edge of the picture, leaning against a post, is that green grinch cat. This time, he is bowing his head in pretended reverence. He is holding a candle. He appears to be in grief, but the sly expression on his face says otherwise. He is looking out the side of his eyes. Did this creature cause the misfortune, or is he just reveling in the grief of the moment? I am not sure what to make of this.
The next page shows the living room of my house. Obviously a professional artist named Sean must have drawn this. Why did he put it in this book? Perhaps he is working on a holiday gift for me. I look at the page again. No signs of a holiday season here. Just my every day living room.
Why am I looking at a drawing of my living room? Why am I thinking about these unfortunate events of recent weeks?
I go to the computer to check my e-mail. I seem to be getting the usual holiday junk mail: download a free screen saver. All you have to give us is your social security number and credit card number. The download is free – for the beta version. But we are sure you will want the premium version featuring extra snowflakes and flying angels with platinum-gold lipstick. These premium angels appear to be better fed and have additional feathers.
Erase. Delete. Delete. The next highlighted message comes on the screen. I stop and read.
"It is not the gaudy, quirky tinsel and decorations on the interior walls of the house that bring Christmas. It is the way Jesus, our Savior, has decorated our hearts within us through his birth and earthly visit. It is the way that the love you share with Sean has brought real beauty and a true Christmas holiday within you. Is there a lack of tinsel at your house this Christmas? Christmas decorations not in place? Yet, the most exquisite, beautiful, wondrous decorations are still here at 91 Pollock Road. They are where they should be. Within you."
I leave the strange message. I get the picture. I know what the strange pictures have been saying, and now this mystery e-mail. Recent events cannot take the Spirit of Christmas away from me. It is alive and well, right where it should be. Within.
Note from the author: Sean and Rosemary: one of the most beautiful decorations that you both have – the beauty, wonder, delight, and real joy that you find in each other. No one can take that away. Not just a seasonal decoration, but a loving gift that you give to each other – every day – all year long.
Rosemary Murphey Dec 2002