The Loneliest Holiday

Louise walked into the supermarket and felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach; tears welled in her eyes.  Blue and silver Christmas decorations were everywhere.  Swags of tinsel and huge balls hung suspended from the ceiling, and poinsettias bloomed in every corner and along the tops of display cases.  "Why won't they just let me forget about it?" she muttered.  Thanksgiving had been bad enough.

Christmas was for family, and this year she'd have no family.  For twenty-three years her only son had been home for the holidays, but now he was half a world away and she might never see him again.  Of course, she prayed that that wouldn't happen.  All day, every day. But that didn't change the fact that he wouldn't be here.  What did she have to celebrate?  Head bent to avoid seeing the gala decorations, she hurried through the store gathering the few items she planned to purchase.  She had already done her holiday baking and mailed the package weeks ago.  She had no intentions of doing any more and cooking for one didn't take too much.  She had already decided that Christmas for her would be just another day.

She forced a smile at the cashier's cheery "Happy Holidays!" and hurried out the door.  The sooner she could get away from all of this holiday stuff, the better. From now on, she thought, I'll just stay home until this awful time is past. 

She entered her house, where there was nothing to remind her that Christmas was just around the corner. There was no sparkling tree with twinkling lights and no carols coming from the stereo. The whole house seemed ominously quiet.  Before his deployment, her son lived a few blocks away. He would normally burst through the door at any given moment and they would sit down for a comforting chat.  She flipped on the television as she passed it, and went into the kitchen.  Lately, she had kept it set on CNN.  She listened to the newscaster's voice as she put her groceries away.  When he began talking about the war, she went to stand in front of the TV, hoping for a glimpse of Jimmy.  If she could only see him, she'd know that he was all right - at least for that moment.  But they rarely showed any of the troops close up and, in their uniforms, they all looked alike from a distance.

The ringing of the phone interrupted her concentration.  She answered it.

"Merry Christmas!" said a lilting voice that she recognized as her friend Maribel.

Louise struggled to make her voice light. "Bah, humbug."

Maribel laughed, and hurried on.  "I need your help." Just like you Maribel, Louise thought, no beating around the bush, just out with it.  "You know the dinner we always put on for the needy at this time of year.  All of my volunteers are backing out on me."

She just couldn't stand it.  Not a party.  Not the same dinner where both she and Jimmy normally volunteered.  Not this year!  "I'm sorry, Maribel, but . . ."

"Please, Louise.  I really need you to help me out." 

"Surely you can find someone else."

"Ruth is going to be out of town, Grace has a party that night and Lillian just called saying that she has the flu and it's this Saturday." 

"What about Margaret or Vera or Janie?  Can't you ask them?"

"I've called everyone I could think of.  We were running short-handed as it was, now this thing with Lillian. You've just got to help us out."

Louise sighed.  She could just imagine the chaos of the cooking and serving the hundreds of plates without enough people.  It was bad enough with a full staff.  All of the running back and forth, bumping into each other as they tried to get everybody served.  "I'll think about it and call you tomorrow."

She heaved a deep sigh and hung up the phone.  When Jimmy had been safe at home, it had been easy to share the spirit.  But now, she had none to share.  All she could think about was how much she missed him and the unknown dangers he faced.  How could she possibly go on as if everything were normal?  She just didn't want to be around, especially, the families.  She just couldn't face all of them laughing and singing and having a good time, not when she felt so alone.

Still, there would be other lonely people there too, some who didn't even have anyone that could eventually come home.  There would be plenty of the homeless - those poor folks who lived on the streets, sleeping in doorways.  If they were lucky, they might have the shelter of a cardboard carton underneath an overpass to call home.  Then there would be the mentally handicapped, many of whom had been stuck away in a special home and forgotten.  They probably didn't even remember if they had families.  How could she stand to see them? 

Yet, there was the chaos of the kitchen.  Maybe she could help cook the food and ready the plates, then someone else could serve them.  It might not be too bad if she didn't have to actually see all of the festivities.  She might be able to go early and leave as soon as everyone had a plate.  She could probably handle that, and it would help Maribel out too.  She sighed.  She might as well call her and get it over with.  No sense in letting her continue to stew about it.  She reached for the phone.

On Saturday afternoon Louise drove to the old building where they always served these dinners, parked and headed for the entrance.  As she approached, the music, laughter and cheerful chatter floated out to greet her.  God, she thought, what have I gotten myself into?  But there was no backing out now.  They were counting on her to help. She pushed open the door.

A group of young people, many wearing Santa hats, was hanging decorations all over the big hall that was already filled with long tables and folding chairs.  A boom box blared out Deck the Halls from one corner of the room. 

Louise, head down and moving close to the wall, hurried toward the adjoining kitchen.  She only wanted it all to be over.

She walked through the doorway and Maribel rushed over to greet her with a big hug.

"I'm so glad you decided to help out."

Louise nodded.  "What do you want me to do?"

"Well, the turkeys are already in the ovens.  We're just putting everything else together."  She waved toward a couple of long tables where groups of women were chatting away as they filled large pans with sweet potatoes and green bean casseroles.

Louise looked past them toward the large sink in the far corner where only a couple of women were washing and peeling potatoes, then glanced back toward the doorway she'd just entered.  "Looks like they could use some help with the potatoes."

"Whatever," Maribel said, hurrying away.  "I need to check on . . . "

Louise shrugged.  Whatever Maribel needed to check on had been lost in the din of the various conversations.  As she crossed the room, Louise nodded to several of the women with whom she had worked in the past.  When she reached the sink, she stashed her purse under the counter and picked up a paring knife.  "Looks like you all could use some help."

"Sure could," one of the women replied, and then laughed.  "This is one of those dirty jobs that no one wants."

While the other two resumed their conversation, Louise began to tackle the mounds of potatoes while her mind wandered to Jimmy.  In years past, he would have been in the other room helping to hang the decorations, laughing and singing along with the radio.  Where was he now?  Would they even have any decorations?  There would certainly not be any singing and what little laughter there might be was, no doubt, tinged with tension.  She was thankful that the chatter in the kitchen nearly drowned out the sounds from the dining hall.

Throughout the afternoon Louise moved like a robot from one task to another.  When there was a lull in the preparations, she began cutting the large sheet cakes they would serve as dessert.

Some of the decorators came in to announce that their guests had begun arriving.  A group of live carolers replaced the radio and even the noise in the kitchen could not drown out their joyous voices.  Louise fought back her tears.  Jimmy should be among them.
 
As Louise and some of the others began filling plates, several of the kitchen workers donned Santa hats to help the young decorators begin serving.  Soon it will be over, she thought.  Soon she could get out of here and go home.

As she slid a piece of cake onto the last dessert plate, the choir began belting out the strains of Jingle Bells.  She hurried to retrieve her purse.  At last she could get away. 

" . . . Oh, what fun it is to ride, in a one-horse open sleigh.  Hey!" the group blasted out as she walked through the doorway into the dining hall.

"Merry Christmas!" a nearby voice called out.

Louise turned toward the sound and found herself looking into the sparkling eyes of a young man's broadly smiling face.  He looked vaguely familiar.  Had he been to other Christmas dinners that she had worked?  He sat in a wheelchair at the end of the table just outside the kitchen door.  The empty legs of his trousers were folded back and tucked under the stumps where his legs had once been.  Tears welled in her eyes.  Was this the way that her Jimmy would return to her?  Her heart swelled with love for this young man who apparently had no family and yet could be so cheerful.  "Merry Christmas," she smiled back.

The chorus began singing, "Silent night, Holy night,"

"All is calm," she began to sing along with them, but her voice cracked as her tears threatened to overflow. How selfish I've been, she thought. We are all family. 



Word Count: 1687