Finding Lost Things: Part Three

For this week's Mosaic Monday, I'm posting the third, and final part of a little piece of fiction I wrote. There are links to the previous parts below. 

This is the conclusion of a three-part story. You can find Part One here, and Part Two here.

         The days of December ticked by. Every few days her family had something special for her to do – a bubble bath with candles mid-week or a new magazine to read. Although it was difficult in the beginning, Alicia worked at letting go and each day became easier and easier. She began to realize that it wasn't the results that were so important; it was the relationships built into the process. For so many years she was the one who led the charge for Christmas, ensuring that what was done fit her expectations. Moving to the sidelines allowed her to cheer on her family, even when their efforts weren't quite as she would have chosen. 

           The children decided to bake just three kinds of cookies, their favourites, and make double batches of each. They filled the cookie tins with shortbread and Nanaimo bars, a family favourite, and a treat that Alicia found almost impossible to resist. To be sure, the gingersnaps were varied in size, the shortbread not quite as melt-in-the-mouth as usual, and the bars were cut crookedly, with the chocolate topping rather lumpy. Alicia said not a word, but encouraged and praised their efforts. Ben had set out a puzzle for Alicia to work on while they baked. They brought her a mug of tea and fresh snappy gingersnaps, two of them, because cookies are best in pairs. 
      

          Sometimes Alicia knit in the living room, listening to her family work together in the kitchen. At other times she sat at the table to watch them, taking part in the lighthearted banter, laughing at the flour flying through the kitchen, and giving the occasional piece of advice when asked. She blocked from her mind what would happen on Christmas Day when the extended family appeared. “We’ve got it all under control, Mom,” they said. There were a few squabbles, but the common goals they had decided upon soon had them resolved.

          She overheard phone conversations about Christmas dinner and blocked them from her ears. Groceries appeared and filled the freezer.

          One evening Kevin brought home a Christmas tree and strung the lights before the family decorated it together. Ben made apple cider and arranged a plate of cookies for them to enjoy in the softness of the tree lights – a family tradition. Alicia sensed fatigue and tension draining away, leaving a curiously pleasant floating sensation in their place. 

          Jill brought her a book from the library. “I asked the librarian for some feel good stories,” she told Alicia, “and this is one she recommended.” For several nights Alicia read the story by Richard Paul Evans, then returned it, and asked the librarian for another. The novels were short and predictable, but with a sweetness that Alicia enjoyed as change from her regular literary taste of mystery and intense drama.

           

          Her co-workers talked about how busy they were and asked how her preparations were going. Alicia smiled and said little. When asked, she simply said that things were different this year. It wasn't as though she did nothing; in the late afternoon she would prepare dinner for her family, and took the time to make the meals they enjoyed. Her evenings were hers to spend as she liked.

          At church, she listened intently to the Advent sermons and read each day’s selection at home, journaling her thoughts as she sat and pondered the meaning of Christmas, and of this Christmas in particular. When her brain filled with nagging thoughts that she should really feel more compulsion to step in and help her family, she banished them from her mind. Kevin actually seemed to be having a good time organizing things and ticking them off his extensive lists. She had to admit; things were getting done, and she herself was more fun to be with. 

          Kevin consulted her about gifts for the children, and they talked together about what each one would appreciate, but Kevin insisted on purchasing them himself. One evening when the teens were out with friends, he brought out the gifts, along with wrapping paper and tape, and together Alicia and Kevin wrapped the parcels.

          Because Alicia didn’t have to think about anyone else’s gift, she thought long and hard about what Kevin needed and appreciated. She wondered if he had unspoken dreams as she had and what they might be. Alicia realized that although they'd spent a couple of decades together, they were still finding out new things about each other. 

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          The short December days marched by as smartly as tin soldiers and Alicia felt the sharp edges of her spirit smoothing out. Prickles of discomfort eased and she laughed more than she had for a long time. She fed her spirit with the laughter of her children and husband, with time to contemplate and read, the tea time with her sister and a friend, and the knowledge that she was not just loved, but beloved.

          Several days before Christmas Kevin took her to The Nutcracker ballet. She’d always wanted to attend a live performance, but other things seemed to get in the way. Now she sat relaxed and happy watching the dancers twirl and leap about the stage. As they exited the theatre into the cold starry night, Alicia stopped on the sidewalk and turned to Kevin. All she could managed was a choked “Thank you,” before she simply hugged him tightly.

          On Christmas Eve, as they drove to church, a few snowflakes splatted against the windshield. Alicia sat in the pew with her family and thought of how the past few weeks had been so different, yet completely lovely. "How much of her dread of the season was due to her own expectations, or those of society?" she wondered. "And how much was due to simply trying to do too much?" As the notes of the Glorias in the carol that Alicia loved swelled throughout the church, Alicia's heart swelled with love and gratitude for her family, and for the gift they had given her.

          After the service they emerged into a wild swirling mass of flakes that had the wipers going furiously as Kevin drove home slowly. By the time they arrived home the lawn and driveway were white, and the landscape beginning to soften and blur. 

          Alicia felt that her heart could hold no more joy than it did then. The hopelessness and frustration she felt at the beginning of December had transformed into softness towards her family and a renewed sense of faith and hope. Letting go of what she had imagined she needed to do returned to her the lost promises of Christmas. Alicia realized that the thing she thought she’d lost had returned in a most unlikely way.   

         

Thank you for reading my story. I had fun writing it. May your Christmas be filled with the love, joy, peace, and hope promised by the coming of Christ. 

Linking to Mosaic Monday, hosted by Angie of Letting Go of the Bay Leaf. 

            

Finding Lost Things: Part Two

This is the second part of a 3-part story. You can find Part One by clicking here. 

         In the evening, after dinner was completed, Alicia sat in the living room, her hands loose in her lap, thinking about how she should be making lists and getting started on Christmas once again. Jill and Ben were upstairs, presumably doing homework, but possibly texting with friends. 

          Kevin came into the room. “What’s up, Alicia? Something’s been bothering you – you’ve been so quiet for the past couple of days.” He sat down as she began talking.

          Tears pricked Alicia’s eyes. “It’s Christmas – I feel so overwhelmed by all I have to do.” She started talking and it all spilled out – the loss of hope and joy, the feeling of too much to do, the inadequacy she felt and the way anticipation had turned to dread. “I don’t want to feel this way. I want to feel the way I did when I was younger.”

          Kevin said nothing for a minute. She was thankful that he didn't rush in and console her with platitudes. 

          “I know you do the most for Christmas,” he said slowly, “so why don’t we switch things up this year? I’ll do the shopping for the family, I’ll organize the dinner, and plan the events. You take time for yourself and do what you want to do.”

          Alicia looked at Kevin and laughed a little. “Oh, Kevin,” she said, “I don’t think so. I’d feel so useless and guilty.” To herself she thought, “there’s no way he could do it.”

          Kevin looked at Alicia and tilted his head, “You don’t think I can do it.”

          She blushed, but said nothing. 

.

          Kevin went on, “Let’s give it a try. My evenings are mostly free in December. Christmas is such a special time of year. I know you enjoy the traditions, and I do recognize all the work you do. Maybe it's time to share the work.”

          They left it there for the night, and Alicia was grateful for Kevin’s understanding even if she didn’t imagine for a moment that he would be able to carry out Christmas plans as they should be done.

          At dinner the following day, Kevin broached the subject again. “Ben and Jill want to help. We’ve made a plan and you can just relax. I’ve made lists.”

          Jill went to get the calendar. “See, we’ve got it all organized.”

          There were days marked for baking, for decorating, and for outings. Noticeably absent was the piano recital and Kevin's work party. Alicia raised an eyebrow as she tapped the empty squares and looked at her family.

          "I love playing piano," said Jill, "and I don't want to stop taking lessons. But the recitals just make me nervous and I really hate them. So I've asked my teacher to let me off the hook this year." She gave a cheeky grin. "So you don't have to go and endure the recital."


           "What about your office party?" Alicia looked at Kevin.

           "We'll skip it this year. Not everyone goes every year, and this will be our year to not attend." He shrugged. "It's not that much fun anyways."

          “Okay,” Alicia said slowly, “I guess we’ll try it. I can step in if needed, right? What about the baking and the presents and the dinner…?”

          Jill, Ben, and Kevin looked at each other.

          “Nope” said Kevin, “if we’re going to do this, you have to let us do it our way and not interfere.”

      

          Mostly silent Ben spoke up, “We know what’s important and what we can leave out for Christmas and we can do it, Mom.”

          Alicia’s heart opened with love as her excited children continued to show her the calendar they’d created for her. They’d included a movie with her best friend, a manicure one afternoon, a promise of hot chocolate and popcorn when the first snow fell, the puzzle they’d purchased for her to work on, and more.

to be concluded...

Finding Lost Things: Part One

This post has taken enormous courage to publish. I read a piece of writing, just a sentence or two, about lost things, and it piqued my imagination. From it I created a simple story, not a literary work by any means. It will be published in three posts over the next week. I hope you enjoy it as I have enjoyed writing it. 

Alicia didn’t know exactly when she lost her love of Christmas. It was gradual, imperceptible, lost over years of baking too many cookies for piano recitals and school programs, lost through wandering the malls looking for just the right gift, lost by too little sleep and wondering if she’d done enough.

          She remembered the anticipation of being a child – those years when the turning of the calendar to December 1 kindled a small spark of excitement that was fed into flames by playing the part of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer in the puppet show in Grade One, by putting on an angel costume and singing Angels We Have Heard on High in the Sunday School program. She still loved that Christmas carol, especially the prolonged Glorias that trilled on for so many notes before the Latin words “In excelsis Deo” brought it all together.

          When she and Kevin courted and married, Christmas was imbued with romance: the delight of walking hand in hand through new-fallen snow, cuddling together while watching Sleepless in Seattle or Miracle on 34^th Street, putting up the Christmas tree together, and waking up to his face on the pillow next to her.

          The Christmas she was pregnant with Jill she felt the anticipation Mary felt, carrying the Christ Child in her womb. She thought of Mary and wondered if she had felt the same protective love Alicia now experienced. Of course she did, Alicia thought. Don’t all mothers?

          Two years later, after Ben arrived, she reveled in the sparkling eyes of her children when they saw the tree lights and shiny ornaments. She pondered the tender moments of telling them the story of Baby Jesus in the manger. The anticipated joy of Christmas morning was more for the delight she would see in her children’s eyes than for herself.

          Then the children became teenagers. Jill was difficult, moody and unpredictable. Ben went silent. Alicia became uncertain about her parenting and other skills. Christmas gifts became a guessing game and Alicia bit her lip as she watched her children open their gifts. Would they like them, or would they get engender a perfunctory “thank you” and be discarded?

          Over the years Christmas dinner became a sprawling affair with siblings, nieces, nephews and parents. She loved her family, but Alicia felt squashed, trying to please everyone. Everyone contributed to the meal, held at Alicia and Kevin’s home because they were welcoming and relaxed.

  

          Alicia loved the story of Christ coming to earth and the hope brought to humankind, but she felt empty and, if not hopeless, then rather numb to the love, joy, peace and hope promised by the Christ Child. Somewhere over the years, she’d lost the meaning. In fact, she loved nothing better than when the celebration was over and there were a few days of doing nothing before returning to her part time position as a doctor’s office manager. Christmas became a chore added to the all the other things demanding her time.

          On November 30, Alicia sat in her favourite chair looking out at the barren garden. No snow had yet fallen. Some years none fell, yet Alicia always longed for snow. She loved the way it brightened and transformed the dark landscape of winter into a magical world of light. For her, one of the most entrancing scenes in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was Lucy’s entrance into Narnia where the lamppost glowed in the falling snow.

          She sat now with her journal and a cup of tea. “What if,” Alicia thought, “what if I ran away for Christmas?” 

         She toyed with the idea, envisioning a quiet cabin in the woods, a cozy fire burning, comfortable couches and time to just read and be. Then she thought about being alone. It seemed appealing, but soon she realized her imaginary scenario included Kevin bringing in the firewood and making her laugh. She realized that the children were upstairs in this imaginary cozy cabin, ready to come down and play games or watch a movie together.

          “So much for that,” she thought. 

...to be continued