by Dan Walsh
“Are you staying warm?”
“Trying to. We had our first cold snap the week before Thanksgiving. It was obvious then our Florida winter coats weren’t going to cut it. Todd took us out to buy some new ones, but I don’t know. I walked down the driveway this morning to bring an empty trash can back into the garage, and that wind started kicking up. It blew right through me.”
“We’re in the middle of a cold front here,” Judith said. “Forced your dad to wear a sweater to work this morning.”
Suzanne laughed. “Maybe you’ll see some snow on the mountain before it’s over.”
That made Judith chuckle. Suzanne was referring to Mount Dora.
“Speaking of snow on the mountain,” Suzanne said, “isn’t tomorrow when they bring all that snow into Donnelly Park? I used to love going to that every year.”
“It is.” Every year, the city filled the hill behind the Donnelly Center with snow, making little runs for the kids to sled down. They’d line the runs with hay bales and place more hay at the bottom where the snow ended.
“Are you and Dad going?”
“I guess so,” Judith said. “We haven’t really talked about it.”
“You should. It’ll be fun.”
“Any chance you guys will see some real snow out there?” Judith knew that was one of the things Suzanne had hoped to see, moving to Texas. It didn’t snow often, only averaged two inches a year, but last year the man who’d hired Todd said one time it snowed six inches and the snow stayed on the ground for three days.
“There’s no snow in the forecast so far. Just freezing temperatures and ridiculously cold wind.”
Judith was just about to ask her if she regretted moving out there but held her peace. For the next several minutes, Suzanne filled her in on what had been happening since they last spoke. How Todd’s job was coming along, how much she enjoyed their new and very big church. Judith especially enjoyed hearing all the stories about the baby.
But hearing all this also stirred afresh the sadness in Judith’s heart that she wasn’t able to see these things for herself. And she wouldn’t see them in the days left between now and Christmas or on Christmas Day.
Suzanne must’ve detected her declining mood. At one point she stopped and asked, “So, how are you doing with all this? You and dad being alone for the holidays?”
Judith thought a moment. When she lived here, Suzanne had become more a friend than a daughter, almost a confidante. But Judith couldn’t open up about this. It wouldn’t be right. It was too close to being manipulative, something she vowed she’d never be. But she couldn’t lie either. Suzanne would see right through it. “I have good days and bad days,” she said. She instantly realized that was very close to a lie. She wasn’t having any good days lately.
“What kind of day is this?” Suzanne asked.
“I don’t know. Too early to tell.”
“Are you and Dad doing anything different this year?”
“I don’t think so. Your dad helped me decorate the house and the tree. That was different.”
“You know, Mom, I was reading an article in a magazine yesterday. It caught my eye because it talked about people in your and Dad’s situation.”
“Our situation?” Judith thought she knew what Suzanne meant but wasn’t sure.
“Empty nesters at Christmastime. It was about things to do to replace all the family traditions when the kids move out. It had lots of good ideas, new things I thought you could try. I checked into it, and the magazine has an online version of the article. Want me to send you the link?”
“Sure. Speaking of new things . . . I’m teaching a class. It starts tomorrow.”
“You are? What kind of class?”
Judith told her about the ornaments class at the craft store.
When she finished, Suzanne said, “That’s so exciting, Mom. I’m so proud of you stepping out of your comfort zone like that.”
“It’s definitely a stretch for me.”
“I’m sure you’ll do a great job. I have such good memories of making ornaments. Brianna’s a little too young right now, but that’s one tradition I definitely want to keep going in my house.”
That was nice to hear.
“I was actually thinking about asking you if I could have a few of them when we moved out here. The ugly ornaments, as Dad called them. But I know how special they are to you, so I never brought it up.”
That stung a little. Not that Suzanne thought of asking for the ornaments. It was the pain that went along with the memory of seeing the ornaments the day after Thanksgiving. She thought about the moment two weeks ago when she had shown them to Betty. Now they were just sitting up in the attic. She hoped Suzanne didn’t ask whether they were hanging on the tree. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted some of them,” Judith said. “Remember which ones you made?”
“Every single one.”
“Well, if you want a few of them, just let me know which ones. I could probably ship them out to you before Christmas.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Judith said. “I don’t mind parting with a few of them.” Or perhaps with all of them.
“Okay . . . well, I’ll think about it then. And be checking your email. I know you don’t look at it very often. But I’ll send you that link to the magazine article.”
After hanging up the phone, Suzanne began to picture some of the “ugly ornaments” she and her mom had been talking about. Of course, she thought of her favorite: the one her dad had nicknamed the alien nativity ornament. She remembered how deeply offended she was the moment he’d first said it. As she’d gotten older, she was able to see for herself the nickname had been properly earned.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph did look like aliens. Thinking about it now made her smile.
She was surprised her mom had so quickly offered to let them go, even ship them to her in Texas. Her mom had treasured those ornaments and had spoken of them as more valuable than almost anything she owned. Suzanne remembered one conversation they’d had after watching a news story about a house that had burned down. They began to discuss the kinds of things they would grab on the way out if their own house caught fire. Her mom had said only two things mattered: her photo albums and family videos and that box of ugly ornaments. Everything else, she had said, the insurance could replace. Now her mom was ready to send them to Suzanne without a moment’s hesitation.
What did it mean?
She was afraid it was another symptom of her mom’s growing holiday depression, and as much as Suzanne would love to get some of those ornaments, she wasn’t entirely sure it had been a wise thing to ask for them.
26
Judith parked her car on a side street off Donnelly Avenue, a short walk to the craft store. She had prayed that morning for God to give her a clear head and a peaceful heart, so she could teach this ornaments class well and make it fun for the moms and daughters.
The peaceful heart had lasted from that moment until now. As she turned off the car, the peace suddenly disappeared. As she walked down the sidewalk, the clear head was also gone, replaced by a barrage of conflicting thoughts. Which ornament should she teach first? How should she introduce the lesson? How should she introduce herself? What should she have the kids do? What should she have the moms do? What if no one else signed up to take the class?
When she reached the corner, she froze. For a moment, she thought about turning around and heading back to the car. But then she saw a mother and daughter hand in hand walking toward the craft store. Both smiling widely. The little girl’s eyes were lit up with joy. Then Judith recognized them as the mother and daughter she had met when she was finalizing the details with Doris. They saw her and waved. She waved back and continued walking forward.
“Good morning,” she said. What were their names again? She used to be so good at remembering names. Name tags. She should have gotten name tags. That would’ve solved the problem. It was too late now.
“Good morning to you,”
the mother said. “Maddie is so excited about the class. She hasn’t talked about anything else since we left the store.”
Judith held the door open. Maddie, her name was Maddie. “And I’m so glad you came back.” She glanced at her watch. The class didn’t start for ten minutes. The store had only been open for twenty. The downtown area was already busy with early-morning shoppers, but Judith only saw a few customers in the store. Doris stood behind the counter. When she saw Judith, Maddie, and Maddie’s mother she instantly smiled and began walking toward them.
“Isn’t this exciting?” she said to all three.
Maddie and her mother responded with an enthusiastic yes. Judith nodded. They walked toward the back of the store. When they arrived, Judith observed that all the supplies for one of the ornaments—the cork reindeer—were laid out around the table in little plastic trays. Apparently, Doris had decided which ornament she should teach first. That was easy. Seeing so many trays laid out this way prompted her to ask, “Did this many people sign up?”
“They certainly did. We actually had to start a waiting list.” Doris looked at Maddie and her mother. “Since you’re here first, you get to pick wherever you want to sit.”
Judith leaned toward Doris and said, “You wouldn’t have name tags in the store by any chance, would you?”
A surprised look came over Doris’s face. “Name tags. I thought about that. I just forgot to set them out. Let me go get them.”
Judith breathed a sigh of relief. She walked to the front of the table and set her purse on the chair, laid her notebook on the table. She turned to the pages she’d written about the little cork reindeer. Two more mothers and daughters arrived. Judith introduced herself and encouraged them to find a seat.
Doris quickly came back with a small stack of name tags and a black marker. Over the next few minutes, three more mothers arrived with their daughters, filling up all the spots at the table. Doris stood next to Judith and welcomed them all and introduced Judith to the class. She pointed out the name tags and asked for them to pass them around and for everyone to put one on. Then she explained about the materials in the little trays in front of them and pointed out a small, itemized list underneath the trays showing the cost for everything they were about to make.
Most of the moms, at this point, peeked at the bottom line and smiled. Judith knew they would. Doris had made this a very inexpensive project. She then added, “Of course, once Judith shows you how to make these cute little cork reindeer, you may want to make several more of them as Christmas gifts for friends and family.”
She turned to Judith and said, “What would you like the class to call you?”
Judith smiled. “I suppose the moms could just call me Judith and their daughters could call me Miss Judith.” Judith looked at the members of the class. She glanced down at Maddie’s mother’s name tag. Taryn. That’s right, her name was Taryn.
After all the introductory comments were said and everyone had gone around the table introducing themselves to each other, Judith held up the finished product: a cute little reindeer made mostly of wine corks and pipe cleaners. She passed it around.
“Everyone take a good look at it,” she said. “You’ll notice that the individual pieces that make up this little guy are all sitting in front of you. I’ll show you how to put them all together so that yours looks something like this when we’re through.”
Maddie held up a sheet of waxed paper covered with evenly spaced white dots. “Miss Judith, what’s this for?”
“That’s a good question, Maddie. Class, why don’t each of you pull out that paper full of dots that Maddie’s holding on to. These are called glue dots. When making crafts, we’re always going to be gluing things together. Normally, when I glue something, I use a hot glue gun. They have them here, and some of you girls might be old enough to use one. But I thought to be safe, and a little less messy, we’d use these glue dots. They’re very easy to use. I’ll show you how in just a few minutes.”
She held up a knife with a black plastic handle. “I thought I should also mention this. When making crafts, occasionally we have to cut things in half or make shorter things out of longer things. When that happens, we’ll use a knife like this or maybe an X-Acto knife. But the blades on these are very sharp and could cut you badly if you slip and make a mistake. Until your mom says you’re old enough, never cut things by yourself.”
She held up the finished reindeer. “See his legs here? They’re actually made from two corks cut in half, to make four pieces. You already have those four pieces in your trays.” She pointed to the brown antlers. “These are made from brown pipe cleaners. And see the reindeer’s ears? They’re made by looping little strands of jute, or twine.” Judith paused and smiled as she watched the moms and daughters all going through their trays, picking out all the different pieces and holding them up.
This wasn’t going too badly, she thought. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. She looked to her right and noticed a small crowd of customers standing down the aisles, watching and listening. She glanced back at the counter and saw Doris, who smiled and nodded her approval.
Maybe she could do this. Maybe Judith hadn’t lost her touch after all.
27
Maddie had been so excited about her creation ever since the ornament class ended this morning. She’d wanted to hang it on the tree so badly, all afternoon, but Taryn had asked her to wait until her father came home this evening. Tim had just called saying he was less than five minutes away.
Taryn looked at Maddie peeking through the front window, holding her little cork reindeer in her hand. She was so proud of it. And Taryn couldn’t be happier about the way things had turned out. That class had to be one of the most fun times they’d ever had together. Perhaps the best part of all: Maddie hadn’t asked to play with her tablet since they’d arrived home.
Taryn sat on her favorite side of the sofa listening to soft Christmas music playing in the background. She had already switched off the lamp beside her, allowing the family Christmas tree to glimmer and radiate its light throughout the room. That was the scene Tim liked to come home to during the holiday season, especially when he’d been on a trip. She smiled as she pondered another scene about to unfold when he got home, once he saw Maddie’s cork reindeer.
How would he react?
Because this glimmering, shimmering family Christmas tree was Tim’s baby, a true work of art, as elegant and beautiful as any tree she’d seen in the Christmas issues of Woman’s Day or Southern Living magazine.
In one of those shocking revelations married couples discover that first year, Taryn had found out she’d married a Christmas snob. At least where the Christmas tree was concerned.
Tim had handled the situation tactfully that first year. Over a latte and a shared slice of pumpkin cheesecake at their favorite café, he had asked Taryn to share her favorite Christmas traditions growing up. So she did. He’d listened carefully and had even asked follow-up questions. When she’d finished, he’d pointed out that she hadn’t mentioned any traditions involving the tree. She’d told him they had always set one up, and she’d always enjoyed decorating it, but she didn’t recall any specific traditions about the tree itself.
A big smile had come over his face as he’d said, “In our home, if we follow all your favorite traditions, would you be okay if I got to take charge of the tree?” It had seemed an odd thing to ask at the time, but she had no serious objection. He’d made it clear they could decorate it together; he’d just like to pick out the tree, the kind of lights, the ornaments, and where they’d go.
She was used to it now, but it had been almost comical to watch how he’d pulled the project together that first Christmas. The meticulous care and level of detail he brought to the effort. She’d never thought of decorating the Christmas tree as serious business before. But she had to admit . . . the end result was spectacular. Everyone who visited their home said it was the most beautiful Christmas tree they had ever seen.
They had set up this year’s tree together Thursday evening after dinner. Thankfully, Tim always made it a fun evening. As fun as possible, considering. Things never got tense, probably because Taryn deferred to Tim as the lead decorator and more or less served as his assistant. She paid attention to how he did things and the way he liked them. Most of the time, she guessed it right. It wasn’t that big a sacrifice. To her, it was no different than how he deferred to her leadership in the kitchen when she was cooking a holiday meal.
The funnier thing was watching him with Maddie.
Of course, Maddie didn’t flow with the program. Kids as a rule never did. She was walking by her second Christmas and definitely wanted to help out. Tim was very patient with her, taking the time to hand her specific ornaments and point right to where they should go on the tree. He’d turn around and go back for more ornaments, and she would stick her ornament anywhere she pleased. But he never yelled. He never even moved it back to its proper place. Not in front of her anyway; he’d wait until she went to bed.
As she’d gotten older, Tim had trained her well. She rarely made a mistake.
But now Maddie was holding an ornament made of cork and pipe cleaners that looked handmade. Taryn looked back at the tree. Every single ornament was store-bought. But not just store-bought; the majority of them were collectibles. Some fairly expensive. None of these thoughts had occurred to her when she signed them up to take this ornaments class. She was only concerned with finding something normal and nonelectronic they could do together.
Headlights flashed through the front window curtains.
“He’s home, Mommy. Daddy’s home.”
Taryn stood. “I see that. I know you’re excited about your reindeer, but give him a minute to get in the door.”
