About 2 years ago, I wrote a short Christmas story. I shared it with a few friends. And then I put it in the back corners of the computer. The other day, I said to a friend of mine, "I'm thinking about putting the story on my blog and then linking it on facebook." Her words? "Why are you only 'thinking' about it?"
So, here it is. Well, not in its entirety, just the first part. I hope you like it....
The Christmas Storm
She stood at the tree and carefully looked over the branches. There were few spots left for her to hang her most precious ornaments. The years had been good to her with these jewels and each of the pieces held a special meaning for her. Trimmings from her childhood had been given to her when she had left home. When each of her grandmothers had passed away, she had received all of the ornaments that she had given them each Christmas, even a few others that had been special to these women and that they had felt would continue to provide her with thoughts of them and her good memories of her life.
Her parents had been divorced when she was too young to remember life being any other way than shuttling back and forth between homes. She'd grown up with the idea that she would not do to her own children what this type of life had done to her. Oh, there had been plenty of love from her grandparents and her father. But, her mother, well, her mother's idea of loving her had left a lot to be desired. It was the same with her mother's idea of marriage and the marriage vows. Her mother hadn't been good at keeping them. She had told herself over and over that she would never be "her mother's daughter."
And she hadn't. She'd married for better or for worse. There had been plenty of 'worse' in her marriage; years where they weren't sure they would be able to keep their home; the kids’ illnesses and injuries and scares of not making it to the next Christmas. Injuries that made it impossible to work for months, little income in the months before the holidays. Barely putting food on the table, let alone having anything under the tree for the kids. But they had made it through. Last Christmas had been incredible. The boys had gotten everything they'd ever wanted and her precious daughter had worn the most beautiful and elegant dress for Christmas morning services; she had looked just like the angel she had been for the pageant the week before. She smiled, despite the sorrow she felt growing in her heart as she thought about the past year.
She always did her reflecting on the past year while she decorated her tree. This time was no different.
There had been shock in the house when they found out just as the year started that they were expecting baby number four by May. She had been told that she would never have another child and they had resigned themselves to having completed their family. Now a new one was on the way and they had had to quickly make preparations. It had come together quite nicely, and, despite a rough start to life, her second daughter was born to her on Mother's Day. It had looked like it was going to be the perfect year.
It was at this point in her reminiscing that she slumped to the floor to have a good cry. A sobbing, gut-wrenching cry if she had ever had one. She wiped the tears as they spilled out of her eyes, down her cheeks and onto her Christmas red sweatshirt that he had given her last year. Her perfect year had been taken away in a split second. He was on the road working when someone hit his patrol car after leaving a July 4th party; the driver had been drinking all day. Nick had been coming to meet them, for his lunch break, to watch the fireworks. But he never made it. They were just sitting down on the picnic blanket when they saw the car pulling into the driveway. She knew the officer. And her heart fell immediately as she knew what he was coming to tell her. He had lifted her from the ground and held her there until she was able to balance. Her life was gone and she hadn't been sure how she would move on.
And so it had been, one day after another, putting one foot in front of the other. She had come to here. The house had been sold quickly; she couldn't face living in the home they had built together. The kids and she had packed up all that they owned and moved, lock, stock and barrel to a new state and a new job - an entirely new life - all within 2 months time. The kids had started school and were moving on with their lives without their father. She had begun the healing process for them; and, just recently, had begun the process for herself as well.
The move to Maine had been her last effort to get on with her life. Too much in her hometown reminded her of Nick. No, not too much, she reminded herself, but everything. Most importantly, Shawn.
They had been a set growing up. The Three Musketeers. Nick, Shawn and Bobbi. Always together — even at birth when their mothers were all in the hospital giving birth to the three within days of each other. Bobbi had been the shy one, Shawn the partier and Nick had kept the threesome's feet on the ground. The only question anyone in their small town had ever had about the three was which of the boys would end up as Bobbi's husband. Bets had even been placed by some members of the community when the three had gone off to college together. Only 2 people had won the bet. She'd married Nick. While getting their criminal law degrees, she'd seen enough of Shawn's wild side to know he wasn't going to settle down any time soon to raise a family. It was all she wanted besides a career – a husband and children. A 'real' family. As much as she loved Shawn, he wasn't going to give that to her. She'd married Nick without a second thought, for she loved him, as well. Perhaps not the same love she'd had for Shawn, but love just the same. And, it had been a good marriage. A give and take. Nick kept them grounded through all those tough times; and loved her unconditionally. She'd done the same for him.
Then he was gone. And it was Shawn that had been sent that fateful evening to give her the news. She hugged herself. It was the memory of how he had held her that afternoon that had finally driven her to leave the small town in Virginia and move to Maine.
She was startled when she heard the back door open. Quickly she grabbed off her sweatshirt and wiped the remaining tears from her face with it. Stuffing the sweatshirt under the empty boxes from the tree, she stood up, tucked her spandex turtleneck into her jeans and grabbed the last trinket from the box to hang on the tree. The kids were home and she didn't want them to find her this way. She stopped in her tracks when she realized which ornament she held in her hand — it was the one Shawn had given her their first Christmas in college.
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