Christmas Gifts

When you get to be my age, there is little to get excited about Christmas.  There are no little children in the family to fill the house with their joy and wonder.  My grown children are far away.  David enjoys Christmas with his family in California, Martha with hers in Illinois. 

As for my son Karl, I had not heard from him in eight years, since I refused to pay all the bills and he took his guns and moved out of my house in Albuquerque and went to Arkansas.  From time to time I sent him a check or a gift of fruit and/or cheese, without ever receiving a thank-you note or telephone call. 

David lets me know how Karl is coping; he pays for Karl’s telephone.  But not hearing from Karl directly broke my heart.

There was nothing I could do about that.

At Christmas time it cheers me to hear from old friends and to know they are still alive.  Old in two ways – I’ve known some of them for more than 60 years, and most are truly old, in their 80's and 90's.   On Christmas Eve, an old college friend, Betty, called from Galveston, where she lives in a retirement home similar to mine in Garland.  I remember her smooth black hair, but she tells me she is gray, like the rest of us.

On Christmas morning Doris called from Albuquerque.  A tiny little woman, she was an English war bride who met her husband, a New Mexico Hispanic, when he was an Air Force cook stationed near her home in Cambridge during World War II.  She learned to make chili, speak Spanish, and adapt and love her Hispanic in-laws.  Now she is in bad health and will never again see England and her sisters.  Yet she cheerfully told about the adorable little dog her daughter gave her.  Empatheticly, she asked about my big white cat, Charlie.

With calls and letters to cheer me, I went to the mail box and found a small package.  Inside was a Christmas pin, a tiny white cat next to a Christmas tree.  It was from my son Karl!

I called David to get Karl’s telephone number.  I phoned him, and we talked pleasantly for 30 minutes.  For the first time in eight years!  That was one of the best Christmas gifts ever!

David called this afternoon to wish his Mom “Merry Christmas.”  He has four years of work to do in the next six months, but he will try to come for my birthday in March.

Martha arrives tomorrow to spend a few days with me before heading back to Chicago and her own busy schedule.  She just completed her second M.A. degree, this one in tax accounting.  She is responsible for U.S. corporate returns for an international company, plus she has a husband and two boys at home.  Yet she finds time for Mom.

Receiving love is the best Christmas gift.  I do not need anything else.