No List For Santa

Little Girl sat at her bedroom window with her golden cat on her lap. She stared at the sky. She waited as she did every Christmas Eve.

She never caught Santa and his reindeer coming in for a landing. But, that didn’t stop her from trying.

Daddy came up behind her and stared out the window too.

“I put you to bed an hour ago, Little Girl. What are we looking for?” he asked even though he hoped that he knew the answer.

“Oh, Daddy! You’re a silly billy” laughed Little Girl without turning around.

“Ma and I noticed that you didn’t send a letter to Santa this year, Little Girl. We thought maybe……..you’d stopped believing.” Daddy said.

He waited for her answer. He felt unprepared to hear it.

” I didn’t send Santa a letter because I have everything I need or want.” said Little Girl.

“Oh!” said Daddy as he picked his daughter up and bounced her into the bed. He covered her up and added the cat onto the spare pillow.

“Oh!” Daddy said in wonder as he kissed his little girl goodnight.

The next morning Little Girl found a stocking full of treats. Coloring books and a huge new box of crayons. Paints. Brushes and an easel too. Best of all……was a doll that looked just like her.

The last gift that Little Girl opened was beautifully wrapped.  The edges of the foil paper were crisp and clean.  The ribbon was tied with precision.  She thought perhaps this gift came from a store that actually did gift wrapping.

She carefully unwrapped the box in order to save the paper.  Christmas wrap like she’d never seen.  Inside the box she found carefully folded tissue paper closed with a gold foil sticker.  Everything smelled like expensive perfume.

Little Girl wrinkled her nose and buried her face in the tissue.  The aroma was something she knew she’d never forget.  Only fancy ladies in church ever smelled this good!

She opened the tissue paper to find a beautiful emerald green velvet dress.  White lace stood up at the collar and at the edge of the sleeves.  Her eyes flew open in surprise.

Little Girl’s closet was full of nice things to wear.  But, everything was serviceable.  Ma didn’t believe in dressing little girls in velvet and lace.  Little girls that liked to climb trees and jump into muddy puddles.

“Did you buy this for me, Ma?” asked Little Girl.

“Maybe.” said Ma.  “What’s a mother to do when her girl refuses to even look at the Sears Wish Book.  There’s a good question for you, Little Girl. I’m thinking that dress is for church…………..and parties………….and if you take good care of it……………when you outgrow it…………you can give it to your little cousin.”

Daddy threw his head back and had a good laugh ………….at his wife who had such a hard time giving gifts…………that smelled of expensive perfume……………and would be remembered forever.

“Oh, Daddy! Look at all the things that Santa brought to me! How did he know exactly what I wanted without a letter or list?” asked Little Girl. “Why did I get so many beautiful gifts?”

“Because, Santa knows you.  And, because you didn’t ask for a thing.”  Daddy replied.

Shining A House For Christmas

I cleaned houses for a number of years. Most of my customers were teachers. But, I did clean a beautiful old farmhouse. The lady of the house was elderly and lived in a wheelchair. She was the cleanest of them all.

I already had two houses to clean on December 23rd. But, my elderly friend called me and asked me for a quick “shine”. Everyone was coming to her house for Christmas. She had expected the festivities to be at her daughter’s house. But, her girl was sick.

I wasn’t sure what a quick “shine” was. But, I told her I’d be there about 4 pm. I pulled into the driveway and was greeted by a sight just like a painting. I sat on the hood of my car and gazed at the house for a full five minutes.

I was tired.  I had just cleaned two full sized houses.  The sharp cold air and the sight in front of me was rejuvenating.

The lady of the house came to the door to ask me if I was alright. I told her I was drinking in her beautiful house. The Christmas tree alight in the front window. The candles in the others.  The beautiful glow of it all as the darkness of evening descended.

She came rolling down the ramp to join me.

She held my hand and thanked me for the gift.

“Gift? Well, I did bring you some candy………but, that’s not what you’re talking about?” I supposed.

“Nope, the gift is getting me out here to gaze upon my home all dressed up for Christmas. In the quiet and the snow.  It’s been a long time……….” she whispered.

We went in to “shine” her house. Every thing was clean from my last visit. She had me put up her nativity on the fireplace mantle. She was very particular where each piece went. And, then I delved into closets and came out with a mountain of wrapped gifts. I placed them under the tree for her.

Wonderful smells were coming from the slow cooker in her kitchen.

“I know you have a family at home. But, could you stay for supper?” she asked.

I sure could.

Scent of Christmas Past

Auntie was dressed to the nines. She wobbled up the driveway with gift bags hanging off of her wrists. A big pan of something was wrapped in aluminum foil. She wobbled because she never went anywhere without her stiletto heels.

I went out to greet her and help her with her packages. Before I grabbed something out of her hands……….I paused long enough to pet her fur coat.

It was black and luxurious. Animals didn’t have rights back then……..we all oohed and ahhhed over that coat.

Except for my mother.

“Are you jealous?” I asked. My mother didn’t own anything fur except for a live cat that ate five times a day.

“NO!” my mother exclaimed. “I am not jealous!”

“Do not hang that fur coat in my closet!” she said in a semi-friendly tone to my aunt at the door. Auntie shook her head in affirmation and folded her coat up. She placed it on the wooden floor in my parent’s bedroom.

“You can at least throw it on the bed like the rest of the company.” I said to Auntie.

“No, I can’t.” she replied. “It might rain today.”

I cocked my head to one side and stared at her in confusion.

“You……can’t! Because……..it is supposed to rain.” I repeated to her.

“Uh huh!” she said as she checked out her black bee hive hairdo in the mirror.

“Never ……..ever…..buy a fur coat at a flea market. Never ever buy a coat from a guy named Sal. Oh, it’s beautiful, luxurious, the softest thing you’ve ever felt! You feel like a million bucks wearing that thing.” she said as she patted every hair into place.

“But, never let it get wet.” she added.

“Why?” I asked as I followed her down the hall.

“Turns out my flea market fur coat is made out of skunk.” she answered as she kicked off her high heels.

Trick or Treating With Ma: 1967

My mother had just shocked me.

That was surprising.  We were a small family.  We lived in a small house. I just assumed I was born knowing everything there was to know about the other people that lived under the roof of the Cape Cod house in Manchester.

“Let me get this straight!” I said to my mother’s back.  She was always at the sink washing something.  I was used to proclaiming important or nonsensical things to the back of her apron.

“You’ve never been trick or treating!” I whispered in horror.

Ma turned around and laughed in my face.

“Oh, my goodness, Little Girl!  Not everyone was born where you were born.  Not everyone has been trick or treating.  Breathe.  Are you alright?  Your silliness is overwhelming to me.” she said as she slapped her dish towel in my general direction.

Ma always had a dish towel.  It usually lived on her left shoulder.  It was for drying things.  For knocking down cobwebs noticed in a corner.  For knocking sense into her children.  She never connected………but the threat was there.

She noticed my eyes filling with tears.

“What the HELL is your problem?” Ma wanted to know.

“Why , oh why? Why have you never been trick or treating?” I gasped in wonder.

Ma sat down at the kitchen table with me.  She was surprised at my response.  Never been trick or treating?  Never to know the joy of hours of running around the neighborhood in the dark.  The wonder of a pillow case filled with chocolate and apples and home made popcorn balls.

How had my mother missed Halloween?  How had she survived?

How could I not have eyes filled with tears?

“Snap out of it!” Ma ordered.

“Sniff.  Sniff………….get it out.  How many times do I have to describe The Great Depression to you?  How many times do I have to tell you that we did without when I was your age.  We scrambled around…………all of us……………..just to eat three times a day. ” she explained once again.

“Poor.” she said.  “Are you listening?  Poor.  Every nickle went towards food and clothing.  Not toys.  Not coloring books.  Not Little Golden Books at the grocery store.  And, it was alright.  We survived.  Every one was in the same boat.  We weren’t poorer than the people next door.  Or, everyone else in the neighborhood.  We all scratched to stay healthy.”

“Halloween.  Trick or Treating……………..costumes, bobbing for apples……………….sorry, Little Girl.  I missed out on that.  Trick or Treating during The Great Depression would have looked like begging.  Begging!  And, we would have starved first!” she said as she  got up and started to dry the dishes with her towel.

That was the day that my mother’s Great Depression stories finally got through to me.

“Hoo…………Hoo……………..Hoot………..” I heard over the running water at the kitchen sink.

“Do you hear that, Ma?” I asked.

Ma shut off the faucet and listened.

“Yes, I hear that.  What is that?” she wanted to know.

“That’s an owl, Ma.  That’s the Halloween owl.” I responded.

I ran my hands over the black silky fabric in front of me.  While my mother did dishes…………..I had been sewing the hem of the costume she had made for me.  My mother…………who was not a natural seamstress……….made my Halloween costume…..every year.

Ma turned around and stared at me.  She threw the dish towel back to it’s natural place on her shoulder.  She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at me.

“Oh, my goodness.  Your last name might be Anderson……………but, you’re an O’Brien for sure.  What load of blarney is about to come out of your mouth?  Let’s hear it.” my mother said with a smirk.

“That owl was hooting …………….Hershey…………….Hershey ……………Hershey with Almonds!  Didn’t you hear it?  How could you not hear that?  Halloween is on a Saturday this year.  Daddy will be home to hand out candy.  You’re coming trick or treating with me.” I declared.

I knew for a fact that my mother had been stealing all Hershey with Almond chocolate bars from my Halloween haul for years.  Not, blarney.  Just fact.

They were her favorites.

Ma seemed surprised.  But, she didn’t turn me down flat like I expected.

“We’ll see.” she said.

For those that don’t know…………….”We’ll see.” usually meant “I don’t want to talk about it but the answer is no.” in our house.

I got my father in on the plan.  He had lived through the Great Depression himself…… but on a farm.  He had never gone hungry.  But, he’d heard my mother’s stories.  Hunger.  Embarrassment at not being dressed correctly for special occasions……..cardboard in her shoes.

Halloween night was upon us.  The fish sticks and french fries were eaten before the door bell started to ring.  I stood in front of my mother dressed as a little witch in black satin.  Holding my white embroidered pillow case that would soon be filled with Hershey bars.  My father handed my mother her coat.

“Have fun ladies.” he said as he pushed us out the door.

My mother was quite shocked to find herself outdoors.  Surrounded by street lights and children skittering in and out of shadows dressed like characters from a scary television show.

We got to the bottom of the driveway.

“Shut your eyes, Ma.” I directed.  “What do you hear?” I asked.

She did as she was told.

“Excited children’s voices.  Dogs barking.  Spooky music……………where is that coming from? Hooting………………..the Halloween owl is noisy.” she reported.

Ma stood at the edge of the sidewalk as I scored my first dozen Almond Joys and boxes of raisins.

“What do you smell, Ma?” I asked after a street or two.

“Burning leaves.  Apples.  Hot chocolate.  Chimney smoke.” she reported.

“Ellie!  Is that you?  Come on in for a cupcake……….shot of schnapps……….glass of wine……..” she heard at quite a few houses.

“Some other time.” she replied.  “This is my first time trick or treating.  We’re after Hershey Bars.”

“With almonds.” she added as she enveloped me in a memorable hug.