Michael's First Real Christmas

         Michael sat at the window in his bedroom. He watched the wet, clumpy clusters of snow as it fell onto the cars that had been parked in the street overnight. His own Volvo was among them, still packed with what he was able to bring with him when he decided to leave his now ex-boyfriend and try his luck in Ithaca. He truly disliked the Christmas season, and with good reason. He had come from a broken home and the only thing resembling a holiday tradition was being shipped back-and-forth between his parents and grandparents. These visits included all the squabbling and backstabbing which two families, with a mutual lack of trust, could dish out. Despite his feelings for the season, he hoped this year would be different. Darren used to tell him of his family's Christmas traditions before each holiday break at college. While Michael did not believe all the stories, in his heart of hearts, he wished he could have had such happy memories.

         This year he was living in the house of his best friend’s grandmother. He had heard so much about her when he and Darren were at college that he felt he knew her long before they ever met. Gertrude was a fine old lady of faith, she was also the neighborhood mother. Darren used the Gaelic endearment of Mwarree, when he spoke of her. She had been blind since birth but still managed to raise not only her own daughter but her grandson, Darren, as well. Since Darren was an only child and an orphan, Gertrude had made sure his life was full of love and instilled many traditions in his life to give him a good grounding. When Michael had moved in, at her invitation until he could find a place of his own, she treated him as one of her own. He felt immediately as if he really was a part of the family.

         The aromas of coffee, hot cinnamon apples and pancakes managed to find their way into his room, breaking his reverie. He moved from the window with a sigh and a smile. This year he would experience Darren’s happy memories for himself. He moved to the foot of the bed and slipped into his flannel pajama bottoms and fuzzy pink slippers, then stepped over to the dresser and pulled out a t-shirt emblazoned with a rainbow flag and put it on. He glanced in the mirror on the dresser and combed through his unruly short, sandy blonde hair with his fingers. It was not going to cooperate today. Green eyes looked back at him appraisingly. “Twenty-six is a good age for you. You wear it well,” his reflection seemed to say. “Especially when you can still get away with looking twenty,” he answered his reflection. He grabbed the white terry robe from the back of the door as he headed down the hall, past the banister and stairs to Darren’s room.

         Darren’s door was open. Michael knocked once and walked in. The alarm clock was playing the PBS broadcast of NPR’s Morning Edition and Darren was sound asleep in bed. Michael smiled. Some things would never change… including his actions when he had to wake Darren up. Michael moved to the side of the bed then sat down heavily, bouncing… and bouncing… and bouncing… until Darren growled in protest. “Hey, man. Wake up already," Michael exclaimed. "Gertrude’s got breakfast rolling out and you’re still sawin’ at logs. Besides, we’ve got beaucoup shopping to do.”

         No response.

         Michael continued his wake up call in singsong. “Darren… Darren.” He reached across the full-sized bed and began tickling Darren on the back of the neck. Darren sleepily swung a hand at him and tried to nuzzle deeper under the blankets. “Fine, secret weapon time.”

         He stood up and pulled the blankets off the bed leaving Darren to shiver in his birthday suit. He headed to the adjoining bathroom. A couple of minutes later, he came back out carrying a small cup of cold water and walked over to the side of the bed Darren was facing. “Last warning,” he whispered, again in singsong, but only slightly louder than the radio. Darren was obviously conscious but ignoring him, trying to go back to sleep. Michael raised the cup over Darren’s head and began a slow drizzle of water onto his head.

         Darren rolled over, too fast and too many times, and off the other side of the bed landing with a heavy thud on the hard wood floor. He groaned again, this time in agony, as Michael burst out laughing.

         “Come along, me boy-o. Mother Trudy’s about got grub ready for us and I’ve no doubt she’ll be callin’ soon wonderin’ where we are.” Michael flopped on the bed to look over at his friend, a large grin plastered on his face. As soon as he had finished saying that, Gertrude did indeed call from the foot of the steps.

         “Darren… Michael… breakfast’s ready and Karyn is here already.”

         “I’ll be down in a moment Mother Trudy. But Darren’s bound to be a bit late,” he called back. He scrambled over the bed and headed out the door, still grinning at Darren.

         “I hate morning people,” Darren grumbled and shot his friend the bird. He could hear Michael laughing all the way down the stairs.

~~~

         Michael was still giggling as he entered the kitchen and sat down at the small wooden dinette table. He chose a seat on the back bench next to Karyn who was huddled over a cup of hot coffee, the snow from outside still evident on her long black hair. He liked Karyn because she was not necessarily the type of girl one would take home to mother. She was a class act this morning wearing an oversized dark-blue turtleneck and skin-tight black jeans. She did not try for the ‘Goth’ look, it just happened naturally - including the dark circles under her eyes. She despised the thought of using makeup to hide her natural beauty.

         Karyn glanced sideways over the rim of the large mug in her hand and said, “I take it the bear is still hibernating?”

         “Not anymore. A cold shower in bed got him right out of it.”

         “Oh, Michael. You didn’t,” Gertrude said from farther in the kitchen. Long silvered hair hung loosely to the middle of her back covering much of the floor-length, purple plaid, flannel housecoat she wore. Fuzzy purple slippers peaked out at the bottom. Her wizened face bore a mock frown; her sightless gaze locked on the tiles behind the stove. She was stirring a large pan of scrambled eggs. Though she was blind, she knew when the food she cooked was done from long experience and well timed muscle memory. As she removed the pan from the flame and scraped the eggs into a serving bowl she said, “If those sheets are wet, you’re the one who’s gonna change them.”

         Michael took on a dramatic expression of pained accusation, more for Karyn’s benefit, and said grievously, “You strike me to the quick Mother Trudy. Truly, you do.”

         Karyn had to reach quickly for her napkin to keep from spewing her mouthful of coffee all over the table. When she was sure of herself again, she reached over and playfully hit him on the arm.

         Gertrude laughed as she reached down, opened a drawer and pulled out a serving spoon then carried both bowl and spoon over to the table. She stopped just at the edge of the table and set down the spoon as she felt for the empty space she had set aside for the bowl. Having moved around to the head of the table, she sat down. “Darren’s not here yet, is he?”

         “Not yet,” Karyn and Michael said simultaneously even as they all heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. A moment later Darren stumbled in and, without preamble, pulled out a chair to sit in. Immediately, his head slumped forward and fell onto the plate. He began snoring as if his life depended on just five more minutes of sleep.

         “Oh, come now Darren,” Gertrude said as she reached for the coffee carafe and his mug. “Normally you’re all set to get this day started before I am.”

         Raising his head, Darren replied, “I probably would have been had these two not kept me out all night arranging and rearranging the furniture in the café,” he said pointing to Karyn and Michael. They both gasped in smiling shock, Michael with his hand on his chest.

         “Moi? I did nothing of the kind. It was all her fault.” He received another slap for that comment.

         “All right now children. Grace first, then you can go about throwing accusations at one another. Though I’m sure Darren was the persnickety one when it came to the table placement.” Before Darren could respond she bowed her head, crossing herself as she said a blessing for family, friends and food.

~~~

         When the table had been cleared and the dishes put in the dishwasher, Michael and Darren went back upstairs to get dressed. Karyn went to assist Gertrude. They gathered in the living room a half hour later all dressed up to face the snow and cold outside. They gathered the plastic bags of home-baked goodies and canned foods they planned on handing out that morning, and made their way out the door. Darren assisted his grandmother down the snow covered steps to the sidewalk.

         Several people were already shoveling the heavy snow off their steps and sidewalks, or salting them down. Many of the people in the neighborhood knew what today would hold and wanted to make sure Mother Trudy would not have trouble getting around.

         The quartet stopped at each brownstone, carefully climbing the steps and knocked on the door. When each door was opened, Gertrude would begin singing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas." She would change it to "We Wish You a Happy Hanukkah" for her neighbors she knew to be of the Jewish faith. Michael, Darren, and Karyn would take the cue and join in careful to let Gertrude begin so they would know which version to sing. When they were finished singing, they handed the family at the door one of the bags, each individually labeled in case some had special dietary needs to consider. Hugs and well wishes were exchanged. Occasionally the neighbors would either ask that their annual gift be taken to the food bank at the church for the Christmas Feast tomorrow, or place a small wrapped gift or envelope in Gertrude’s hand.

         There were a couple of families that had moved into the neighborhood that year, and who Gertrude hadn’t gotten around to visiting yet. That did not deter her from stopping by their homes. Through the neighborhood grapevine, she had learned their names and what holiday they celebrated. When they visited those homes, she would start by introducing herself and her companions before begining to sing.

         At one house, the new ‘family’ was a single elderly gentleman who Gertrude had learned was a widower and had moved into town shortly after his wife’s burial. He had neither wreath nor lights of any kind on door or in window. No decorated tree could be seen within either. When he finally opened the door, Gertrude went through her routine of introductions and singing without the slightest trace of insincerity. The gentleman stood resolute and quite through the whole proceeding; however, when they were finished, Michael noticed a tear running down one of the wrinkles around his mouth.

         “Is everything okay sir,” he asked.

         “It is now, thank you. Thank you all. After my wife died I never thought to celebrate Christmas again. I thought it would have been too painful. You see, Christmas was her favorite holiday and what you are doing now is what she used to do every year for the folks in Scranton. I miss them terribly. But you have just brought to me what I had forgotten Sarah and I used to bring to our neighbors… the giving and love… I guess I had begun to take it for granted. But now….” He became choked up and couldn’t continue.

         Michael and his friends also had tears running down their faces by now. Gertrude, however, was smiling pleasantly. She said, “Mr. Matthison, would you do me the honor of attending the Christmas Feast tomorrow with me? I’d be honored to have you as my guest.”

         Mr. Matthison only smiled and nodded at first then said. “It would be my honor to attend with such a generous lady and her family."

         Michael started to say that he was just a friend of the family but had second thoughts about it and so said nothing.

         They continued the rest of the morning visiting and handing out the small gifts of food. At lunchtime they stopped into Marcus’s Deli for hot Reuben sandwiches and coffee. When they had warmed up and filled themselves they headed back to the house, gathered the second batch of goody bags and headed out again for the other side of the neighborhood. Their last stop was at the cathedral where they sang for Father Kinkillian and the brothers of the cathedral and gave them the bags that were to be donated for tomorrow's Feast. They were invited in for a cup of hot chocolate and a warm up in the kitchen where the brother’s had already begun cooking the turkeys, hams and fish that would be served the next day.

         When they finally walked back to the house the three young adults stopped in their tracks at the sight on their porch. Darren and Karyn just looked at each other and smiled. When they turned to Michael they were amused by his expression of disbelief.

         “Children, what’s wrong?” Gertrude asked.

         “Nothing Mwarree,” Darren answered. “Someone left a big box and a Christmas tree on the porch is all.”

         Karyn, still looking at Michael, said, “You okay Michael? I’ve only know you for a couple of weeks, but I’ve never seen you at a loss for words before.”

         The spell Michael seemed to be under suddenly broke, but he just looked at his new family unable to say anything.

~~~

         Later that evening after they had gotten the tree inside and decorated, warmed and fed themselves, and bade Karyn goodnight, Darren and Michael gathered in Darren’s bedroom. They each took a seat by the old radiator, their backs against his bed. A Thermos of hot coffee sat between them and steaming mugs in their hands. Michael still had not said much that evening and Darren was content to share the silence with his friend.

         When Michael finally spoke, it was in a near whisper. “I remember the Christmas stories you used to tell me in college about how you celebrated the holiday. Even though I dreamed that I could have had something even remotely close to what you described, I always thought you were exaggerating somewhat.” He fell silent again for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “You do this every year?”

         “For as far back as I can remember. And according to Mwarree, as far back as she can remember. I think she said it started when her grandmother came to America in the 1800’s. She hadn’t had a very good year that first year. But the people she met had made her feel welcome, which wasn’t the norm of the day. That first Christmas, Great-great-grandma went to the people who had been a help to her, essentially doing what we did today.”

         Again there was silence as Michael considered the tale. He understood about hard times and the generosity of others; the past year for him proved that out. Michael tipped his cup to look inside then raised it in a toast. “Then here’s to you and your family tradition. May it continue another century and a half.”

         They drank to the toast. Michael turned and looked at his friend, gratitude plainly written on his face. A single tear threatened to spill down his cheek. “Darren, thank you.”

         Darren turned, smiled and placed an arm around his friend's shoulder. “For what?”

         The threatening tear finally fell followed by two others in quick succession. “For my first real Christmas.”

         They sat for the next half hour or so in silence, taking comfort in each other's presence before heading off to their separate beds. As Michael undressed for bed, he suddenly remembered that he hadn't bought one thing that day. "It's not that important anyway," he said to himself as he crawled into bed, a smile of contentment and joy on his face as he fell asleep.