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2008
B&B -- Merry Christmas -- 2003
December 1995 Christmas
December
1994 Christmas
December 1992 Christmas |
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From Cathy
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From GraceBe |
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~The Visitor~ To me the most beautiful thing about Christmas is the family. The laughter, the joy, the togetherness and the special smell of Christmas that sneaks through the house and fills the air with jolly anticipation. I have to admit this year everything would be a lot differently but I know in my heart that no loved one who leaves us is gone forever. They stay in our heart and remain there and sometimes when things turn for the worse they shine as a light that guides us through our lives. But here I go blithering again. Things change constantly. That’s life and nothing can avoid change as much as people might want that. Maybe Christmas belongs to the things that guarantees continuity but when someone you loved is gone even Christmas changes. Usually we all would celebrate in our family home in L.A. but since my husband Ian died almost ten months ago I decided to go up here for Christmas. Of course many wonderful memories of our married life are waiting here to haunt as well but at least no memories of Christmas. We always came up here to spend New Years Eve here in this cabin. To see the new year arriving in the snow with all our friends had always have something special for me. The fireworks and the snow always created an atmosphere that cloaked me in joyful anticipation for the fresh born year that lies ahead of me. But why am I talking about New Years Eve when I still have to prepare Christmas lunch? I’m just glad I haven’t forgotten anything because when I looked outside the window a few minutes ago I noticed it had started snowing again. At least I wouldn’t have go to outside anymore. Hopefully the streets will be free till lunch time so that my children and my grandchildren can arrive safely. Bending my head a bit I look at my Christmas tree and admire it. I love the old decoration I got from my mother after she had died some years ago. Actually it is the most precious thing I ever got from her. It reminds me about a better time and every year it gives me a certain amount of peace to get all the old pieces out of their boxes to clean them. It’s the sign that Christmas arrives – finally. The stockings are prepared and hang at the fireplace, the turkey is inside the oven and on the radio the beloved voices of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra sing about the marvellous marshmallow world outside. I can’t hide my smile. Soon the cabin will be filled with the laughter of my 5 grandkids and their parents. My oldest son Keith and his wife Patricia have two wonderful girls. Charlotte or Charlie as we use to call her and Carrie. Ian used to tease me and Charlie when he compared us to each other. Although both girls have the same blond hair I used to have in my youth Charlie is as much as a tomboy as I was while Carrie is more like her own mother. She’s a lot shyer and less rebellious than her twin sister. My second child, Lorelay has two children with her second husband Phil. Our relationship has been rather difficult over the years but eventually we’ll come along one day. Little Jimmy and his baby sister Marisa are both very dear to me and I can’t imagine my life without them. My youngest daughter Brennan is a real whirlwind. She is dark-haired as Ian was and very witty. She still refuses to tell me who the father of her already 6 year old daughter is. Seems my motherly skills sometimes lack when it comes to my daughters but I hope they all know how much I love them. Although Ian is gone I’ve prepared a stocking for him as well. He loved Christmas and keeping his stocking inside the box would hurt me too much. He is still a part of me and still the head of this family. Satisfied with my accomplishment I go into the kitchen to pour myself some hot coffee. I’ve been up since 6 am after a rather sleepless night. Sometimes phases of insomnia hit me and I can only wait till they’ve passed by. To my surprise a frank knock at my door interrupts my well-deserved coffee break. A quick glance at my watch tells me it’s far too early for my family to arrive and so first peek out of the window before I open the door. I can only see the back of someone. A man apparently. When I open the door and a pair of brown gentle eyes meet mine. At first I’m taken aback by his appearance. He must be around my age. Elegant with grey hair and a few dark strays and some lost snow flakes glittering on it. His whole face shines with friendliness and charm. Somehow he reminds me about Ian. His clothes are expensive and very well-chosen. A man with taste apparently. Just like Ian. “Excuse me, please,” he says friendly and gives me wide smile. “But I have a problem with my car. Could I use your phone?” He lifts his hand and shows me his cell phone. “My battery has died about 5 miles from here!” “Oh of course! Come in, please… where was I with my thoughts?” He enters the cabin and looks around. “That’s a lovely place,” he says and smiles at me. “Thank you.” “Beautiful decoration.” He points at my tree. “Well, I did my best. I expect my family to arrive soon. It’s Christmas after all.” “Right it is… ” He stretches his hand out and I take it and we exchange formal a formal Christmas greeting. His hands are warm and gentle. Not the hands of someone who is used to work with his hands. An impression that supports my idea of him. He seems wealthy. “My phone is in the kitchen. Just help yourself.” “Thank you. That’s indeed very kind.” I show him the phone behind the kitchen counter and turn discreetly away so that he can make his call. A few minutes later he comes back into the living room. “I’ve talked to my office and they’ll send me a driver up here.” “Oh… wonderful. You can stay here if you want to…” What am I saying here? “I have some fresh coffee.” He smiles whole-heartedly at me and nods. “Coffee would be wonderful. It’ll take an hour to get here so if you wouldn’t mind if I stayed here…” his voice trails off and he rubs his hands. “It’s a cosy place you have here.” I return the smile: “It’s no problem at all. Make yourself comfortable.” I take his coat and offer him a seat on the couch. “What brings you up here in this lonely place?” I ask while I take care of my turkey and prepare a cup with coffee for him. “I have a cabin about two miles from here. I was going to meet my fiancée here for Christmas,” he explains. “How romantic,” I can’t help but to chuckle and give him the cup. “That’s what I wanted it to be.” He makes a face. “Something wrong?” I ask when he suddenly seems lost in his thoughts. “It’s just… you know my battery died while we were arguing. Her idea of a perfect Christmas is going to Barbados to celebrate with a Tequila Sunrise. I prefer snow and eggnog.” This time a smile crosses his face. “I can understand that completely,” I inform him and settle down next to him. “And now you’re on mission to convince her of your version?” “Actually I’m not sure I want to convince her. The Christmas problem is just one of many.” He drinks from his coffee and we fall into an almost embarrassing silence. He makes me curious and I would love to learn more about him but he is a perfect stranger to me… I can’t ask him questions I wouldn’t want to answer myself. “Well, I don’t want to bother you with my problems. Not in here…” His eyes roam again the room and get stuck at the stockings at the fireplace. He can see him counting them. “Wow… you have a big family.” “3 children, two of them with their spouses and 5 grandchildren,” I explain with a smile on my face as I recall their faces. “And who belongs the last stocking?” He asks curiously. My smile fades a bit. “My husband Ian. He passed away about ten months ago.” “Oh… I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to remind you… I mean…” His cheeks flush a bit but I interrupt his stumbled apology. “Don’t be sorry… you couldn’t know. It’s fine.” “It was a bit insensitive from my side. I’m sorry.” He sips again from his coffee and to ease the new aroused tension I ask: “Do you have children?” “Two with my first wife Beth. My son is working with me in our business and my daughter is the free-spirited artist… she owns her own gallery by now.” “That’s wonderful. You must be proud of them.” A smile crossed his face. “Oh, yes I am. Rick is a wonderful business man and Maggie… she’s just… Maggie.” “You mentioned your ex-wife…” I hint carefully and get up to look how my turkey is doing. “Actually she’s my first and third wife.” His face became a grimace. “Sounds fascinating,” I retort and can’t hide my surprise. Who would marry someone more than one time and divorce again?! “Actually it isn’t. We’re just two people who never belonged together. It took me some time to realize that but it’s the truth.” He has risen from the couch to follow me to the kitchen. He sits down at the counter. “Do you want another coffee?” “If you have one… I really like your coffee.” “I aim to please.” I refill his cup and take my time to have a closer look at his face. I really like him. For a reason I can’t tell his presence pleases me. It’s nice to talk to someone who has my hair-colour. I’m sure our ideas about life and how it should he lived differ a lot and yet I feel we speak the same language. “And this woman who doesn’t like snow is destined to become your… fourth wife?” “I don’t know if she’s destined to become my next wife. Maybe she isn’t.” He thinks for a moment and adds: “You know I have to admit I’m little scared that the guest-list on my funeral will be either too long or too short. And I don’t want to look down on my grave stone to read “He leaves 4 ex-wives and a broken company.” Trying to imagine that I start laughing and he joins me. “What kind of company do you have?” “Marketing. Forrester & Sloan… we sell everything.” “Good slogan.” “We aim to please.” He makes a silent toast and blinks at me. “Marketing is a hard business in L.A.,” I remark as I prepare a pot filled with potatoes. “It is… but we belong to the best. When I was young I wanted to become a designer. A second Ralph Lauren and even better… but well…. I ended up in a marketing company where they needed a graphic designer. My boss realized I could do more and better and after a few years I had a job in the management… and a decade later I owned the whole place.” “The American dream… My husband took over the company from his father. It produced and sold bolts and nails.” We exchange a look and start to chuckle. “Well, that’s a crisis-proof business! Just as undertaking and marketing!” “How did you meet the Master of bolts and nails?” “In college in Princeton… my father wanted me to attend the North-Western but I wanted some fresh air…” “Really?” He looks surprised. “I was in North-Western… we could have met!” “True…” I blush a bit and find myself liking the idea. Very much so. “Well, a pity but I’ve always been very head-strong. But on the other hand you’ve been lucky… You have no idea what had hit you!” My eyes meet his and I blush when I notice the sudden sparkles in his eyes. “I guess, you’re right,” he says in a lower, almost teasing voice. I turn quickly away to hide my blushing face and clear my throat. I don’t know why but suddenly I want to break the spell between us… he is just a stranger after all. I don’t even know his name… was it Forrester or Sloan? “My son Keith manages the company since Ian is dead. He’s quite good and his wife helps him. It’s a family business.” “You seem to have a wonderful family.” “We have our problems, believe me… I have a tendency to overprotect my children. I know my nickname among my kids’ teachers was “Terminator”.” “Well, but you’ll have your children here for Christmas… my son will celebrate with his mother and her new husband in Montreal while Maggie stays in Europe. Her new boyfriend lives in Paris… artists, you know.” “I see…” It seems as if he is just realizing that all he has in store for Christmas is a fiancée in a cabin he can’t reach right now. Actually someone he isn’t sure about anyway. I look at my tree and the stockings and feel sorry for him. A man so good looking, so kind, rich and yet lonely. I feel sorry for him when I think about my own imperfect family and how much I love them. “I heard Christmas in Paris is a very glamorous occasion!” I say to ease the mood. “Maybe… as I said I prefer snow and eggnog. My recipe is famous!” “Really? Shoot!” “Most important is the rum! If you haven’t enough rum you can forget the whole thing!” “Sounds dangerous.” I just have to smile upon the bright smile on his face. Maybe the man is not just a survivor but also what I use to call a master of the art of living. He doesn’t seem to look back nor does he look forward. Living with him must be a big adventure… but what am I thinking? I don’t even know him… as a matter of fact I don’t even know if I would had looked twice at him if we met in an elevator… and who am I fooling now? Of course I would have looked twice… I try to pay attention to the already boiling potatoes. The last thing I want is that he feels observed by me. “So you used to poison your family with eggnog,” I conclude casually and he nods proudly. “They loved it but just didn’t admit it.” “Of course, they didn’t.” “You like being sarcastic, don’t you? I like that.” “Maybe I am sarcastic… maybe just honest.” “I guess to find that out is a mission for life!” “At least that’s what I’m told.” We exchange a smile and silence carried by contentment settles in. “You like to have the last word,” he says after a while and leans slightly over to study my face. I don’t know why but I turn to him and this time I don’t blush when his eyes roam over my face. I’m sure his fiancée is a more pleasant sight but I don’t feel defeated by this. It challenges me… “And you like to flirt.” “Only when I’m tempted.” “And you feel tempted right now?” “Animated… and interested.” A sharp knock at the door interrupts us just as I open my mouth to respond to him. I can see he isn’t pleased with the break that is forced upon us but he takes a look at his watch and says: “Could be my driver.” “I’ll open the door.” It’s indeed the driver. “Nice car,” I remark when I get a glimpse of the big Jeep outside in the snow. “Well, up here one needs a good car.” I watch him as he slips into his coat and somehow I feel sorry he intends to leave… I would miss him once he had walked out of my door. “I don’t know how to thank you for your coffee and your company.” We are standing face to face. His hands are in his pockets and he looks quite helpless. Lost of words… for the first time since he entered my cabin. “It was my pleasure. I can’t remember I ever had a more pleasant visitor on Christmas morning.” “You’ve been a very charming hostess. Thank you for everything.” He stretches his hand out and I take it. “Merry Christmas.” “Merry Christmas.” One last glance, one last smile and he leaves my house and my life again. When his car is out of sight I close the door, lean against it for a little while and smile. I still don’t know his name. ~Fini~
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The Way We Were
... sung by Doris Day