Christmas

It was Tom’s and my turn to host Christmas. Rather than our choosing which among our widely scattered family members we should visit, they came to us, here in Louisiana. My daughter, son, daughter-in-law, and even my sister came, all the way from London via Indianapolis, where she picked up our 90-year-old mother and escorted her to Louisiana on mom’s first plane ride in many decades. It was a sweet and fulfilling time.

The weeks leading up to Christmas had been a crush of commitments, as I was busy with research and writing papers for courses I was taking, still a year and a half from completing my PhD.

My son, Robbie, had arrived a couple of weeks before everyone else, so he was with me when engine trouble required a visit to my mechanic. Daryl was in the midst of his own holiday rush of malfunctioning vehicles, so I got a loaner for the three weeks it took him to give me the bad news. I mean, really bad. Daryl’s call came while I was driving around town in the rental car, doing holiday errands with Robbie. Daryl topped off his dire news that my poor, aging and hard-worn Saturn was on its last legs with a repair price tag of around $6,000, which of course I did not have. I’d been living on a graduate teaching assistant stipend supplemented by student loans and the occasional pet-sitting job for over a decade by then, with rarely more than a few hundred dollars at a time in my bank account. I despaired over how to fix my ailing vehicle. Getting a new car, whether truly new or used, seemed even more farther of reach than graduation day.

Then Robbie engaged me in a conversation for possibility. “If you could buy any car you wanted, what would it be?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s easy,” I said, “a Honda Fit. I’ve actually done research on the smaller sedans and the Honda Fit gets very high ratings all the way around.”

“What color would you want?” he wondered.

“That’s easy too,” I replied. “Here in the Deep South it’s always best to get a white car because they stay just a bit cooler, but my favorite color of car is blackberry and I’ve actually seen photos of a blackberry-colored Honda Fit, so that’s what I would want. Very handsome!”

There was probably more to that conversation but I was too consumed with worry and angst for it to stick in my memory.

I had painstakingly worked out where everyone in my family would stay. I was house- and pet-sitting for a friend who’d gone to Europe to spend Christmas with her son and his family, and there was sufficient bed space in her house for the kids. Robbie and his wife, Johana, got the main bedroom, and my daughter Amelia got the day bed in Liz’s office, while I had the bedroom I’d occupied when I was Liz’s roommate a few years earlier. Mom and Kathryn stayed at another friend’s house, which made sense because I was also pet-sitting his parrot while he and his wife went traveling. Other than Johana’s allergies to Liz’s cat, the accommodations worked out well and there was plenty of hustle-bustle from day to day - - decorating, shopping, spending time with Tom at his place and generally diving deep into the holiday spirit.

A few days before Christmas Robbie informed me that he, Johana, Amelia, Kathryn and mom were all going out for the afternoon to take care of some holiday tasks and they were sorry to leave me alone but I shouldn’t feel bad because … you know, Christmastime. They were gone for several hours and, frankly, I was relieved for some time on my own and a bit of quiet. When they returned to Liz’s house Robbie and Johana swooped into the kitchen with high energy in their spirits and mischief in their grins.

Robbie announced, “OK, we’re going to show you something, but first you have to close your eyes,” while Johana chimed in, “Don’t be scared, we’re just going to help you out,” as she tied a blindfolding scarf around my head. Each of them took one of my hands as they led me outside. “Just a few more steps, mom, come slightly to your left, all right, perfect,” Robbie chuckled as he let go of my hand.

“One! Two! Three!” and, as Johana lifted the scarf off my head, there stood in the driveway a bright, shiny, brand new Honda Fit with - - just like in the TV commercials - - a huge red ribbon sitting atop the roof. I was flabbergasted. I was speechless. Which Robbie could tell, so he started anticipatory jabbering at full speed to fill the space. “You can’t keep this right now, mom, it’s just for this afternoon and we can’t take it for a test drive because this one - - and I know you don’t like black but this Honda Fit was the only one left on the lot - - they just loaned it to me for two hours so that I could bring it here to show it to you. But, do you like it? Because, if you do, this is your Christmas gift.”

I turned to my son, my one and only son. My sweet, thoughtful, generous son, who was barely past college and earning pin money as a translator while his wife finished medical school. My gracious and resourceful son who, wanting to both allay my transportation worries and build his own credit, had crafted an agreement with my mother. My equally gracious and resourceful mother had loaned Robbie the money to buy me a car; an interest-free loan that he agreed to repay over the next two years.

I turned to my son, who was a head and a half taller than me, and I squeaked into his chest, “It’ll do!” then held him tight while I burst into tears. A short while later, he drove the car back to the lot. We had to wait until the day after Christmas to pick it up.

Tom’s beloved 13-year-old golden retriever, Jillie, had died in November and we’d been looking for another dogs for weeks. Tom and I had searched all over town and all over the Internet for a new canine family member, and had finally found a beautiful, smart, attentive, two-and-a-half-year-old foxhound at the Baton Rouge shelter, where some final health checks were to be conducted before we could bring her home. We were allowed to pick her up on December 26. Our sweet new dog had clearly been with people before, and we could hardly believe we were lucky enough to be her new family. In the truck on the way home she sat upright, directly behind me. When I reached into the back seat to pet her she put her paw into the middle of my hand, a grateful thank you. A new car and a puppy on the same day. There really is a Santa Claus.