A Gift

               It had begun to snow.  Thankfully, it hadn’t affected the sidewalk enough to make walking in heels treacherous.  Still, she adjusted her scarf, pulled her coat around her, and quickened her pace.  Her building, its glass doors allowing the lobby light to spill onto the sidewalk, was just ahead on the left.

“Good evening, Miss,” the security guard greeted looking up from where he sat behind the lobby desk.

With a nod, she returned the greeting with a casual smile as she crossed to the two elevators.  Anxious to get to her apartment, she pushed the button several times. Grateful it was empty when it opened, she stepped inside, moved her briefcase to her left hand and pressed the button for her floor.  She watched distractedly as the light illuminated each floor’s number one after another as it rose. 

Her apartment was at the far end of the floor and she moved quickly toward the door.  Inside, she dropped her briefcase by the door, stepped out of her shoes and set her purse on the counter.  With a sigh, she picked them up and started for the bedroom, eager to be out of her clothes.  She flipped on the light and crossed to the closet, careful to place her shoes in the vacant space left for them on the shoe shelves.  Pulling her not quite as crisp as this morning white blouse out of the navy pencil skirt, she eyed the bathroom door but decided instead to make her way to the kitchen.

There was a hot, soapy bath calling her name but first, she opened the refrigerator and removed a bottle of light, white wine.  From a small rack at the end of the counter, she pulled a clear flute and filled it halfway.  Taking a healthy sip, she sighed.  It had been a long day and even longer couple of weeks but now she had a few, well deserved days off.

She picked up her glass and decided to take it with her into the bath.  Before she could, the familiar buzz of her phone came insistently from her purse.  For a moment, she was tempted to ignore it but then thought better of it.  She couldn’t take a chance that something had gone wrong at work and needed her attention. 

When she saw the name on the screen, she frowned and set it down.  Staring at it, she wanted to walk away but knew it would only keep on until she dealt with it.  She’d been dreading this and half hoping it might not come, but here it was.  With a groan and a heavy sigh, she answered.  “Hey.”

“Hey, Andi.”

“Nobody calls me that anymore.  I’m Ahn–drey–a now.”

“Right.”  She replied cheerfully.  “But they aren’t family.  They haven’t known you since they were born.”

Trying to keep the impatience out of here voice, she asked.  “So, what’s going on?”

 “You’re kidding, right?”

 “No.  What?”

 “Uh, it’s Christmas?”

  “Okay.  And?”

 “Seriously?”  Her tone dropped slightly.  “I wondered if you might come home.”

 “Well, you know, things have been really crazy at work…”

“I know how busy you are, but you know, mom’s not getting any younger and…”

“She’s got you, Edie, and Chaz and the kids.”

“She’d like to see you, Andi. I mean, how long has it been?”  She paused.  “I can’t even remember the last time you were here.”

Her mind raced as she searched for an excuse.  Work was usually enough.  “Well, I have work, I mean…”

“Come on.  Who do you work for?  Scrooge?  Are you telling me you can’t take a couple of days to come and see your family for the holidays?”

“I know you can’t understand the pressure I’m under at my work, but…”

“We all know how important your career is and what it means to you, but really?  It would mean a lot to Mom.”

“If she wants me home so bad, why doesn’t she ask?”

“You know she would never…”

“Well, I’m sorry, Edie.  I just can’t right now.”  She took a sip of her wine for courage.  “Listen, I just walked in from work and I’m exhausted.  I haven’t even changed, so…”

“Andi, you know Mom won’t be around forever.”

 “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

 “No.  But seriously, just keep that in mind, okay?”

“Sure.  I will.”  She wouldn’t lie and make any promises she didn’t intend to keep.  “But listen, I’ve really gotta go.”

“Yeah.”  After a slight hesitation.  “Hey, Merry Christmas.”

“Right.  You too.”  She set the phone on the counter and made her way to the bathroom.  Lighting several scented candles, she dropped a bath bomb in the tub and ran the water as hot as she could stand it. 

As it filled, she wiggled out of her clothes, uncharacteristically leaving them on the floor and took her wine into the bathroom.  She slipped into the steaming water and closed her eyes, letting the heat relax her tired muscles.  A good long soak relaxed and rejuvenated her; even as she drove the conversation from her mind.

                                                                                          ii

Wrapped in a towel, she reached for the pretty, satin gown on her bed and then hesitated.  Nodding to herself she thought, Oh, why not.  I’m off a few days and not expecting company.  She moved instead to the bureau, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a pair of red and green checked, flannel pajamas.  From the back of her closet, she retrieved a pair of fluffy slippers and pushed her feet into them.  In the bathroom, she twisted her hair up in a loose updo, and quickly grabbed the wine glass without looking in the mirror.

Cocooned in comfort clothes, she went into the kitchen, dumped the wine, and took a cup from the cupboard.  On a night like this, with no work the next day, snow falling and tucked in the house with nowhere she had to be, she knew exactly what she needed.  From the filtered pitcher, she filled the mug and set it in the microwave to heat.  From the recesses of her pantry cupboard, she found a cannister of cocoa and from the back of a drawer, a bag of marshmallows and a tin of cookies.  She didn’t know why she felt it necessary to keep them tucked away; she went out much more frequently than she entertained.  It’s just they didn’t fit with the cosmopolitan life picture she had in her head that she was doing her best to live in to.

Steaming mug of cocoa with plenty of marshmallows on top in one hand and the open tin of cookies in the other, she padded slowly toward the couch, set the mug on a coaster on the table in front of it, picked up the remote and powered the television on.  A night of cheesy Christmas movies was exactly what she needed to start her wind-down weekend.

The cookies were soft and chewy, the cocoa rich and creamy as she curled up in the corner of the couch, drew her legs up under her and focused on the set.  Light-hearted and pleasant, it was just enough to engage her attention without her having to think.  Perfect.

She never managed to completely give way to the comfort food binge, so after a couple of cookies she’d had enough.  With her cup empty and the movie winding down, she picked up the tin from off the couch and carried it back to the kitchen. 

For a moment, she paused, staring into the tin at the bright frosting and sprinkles.  The tree had always been her favorite.  She couldn’t be sure if it was her imagination but suddenly, the fragrance of freshly baked sugar cookies seemed to waft up from the tin and fill her senses.

“Mom!  Check the cookies.  We don’t want them to burn.”  Came a young voice from behind her.

 Thinking she’d imagined it, she whirled around… and stared.

 At an old school counter made to look like wood, not the upscale granite she’d made sure was in her apartment, and covered in flour, two young girls were rolling out dough  What?  She thought, peering curiously.  They looked familiar but…  Mom?

Beyond them, there was a room filled with furniture, not expensive, slightly worn

but comfortable.  Sounds of lively Christmas music, proclaiming the birth of a savior played just loud enough to be heard and enjoyable, if you liked that kind of thing. She wasn’t sure if she did or not.  Certainly, her mom expected it.  She talked about it all the time and they went to church where she heard constantly about the need to accept Jesus and live according to His Word. There was a large, decorated tree twinkling red and gold in a corner.  Strange, she thought.  She knew this place.  It looked a lot like…

“Mom!”  The younger of the two girls demanded.  “The cookies!”

“Right.”  She turned to the oven behind her and opened the door.  It had been many years since she’d baked any cookies, but she remembered enough to know they were done.  As if this was normal, she picked up the festive potholders, took the two pans from the oven and set them on the racks waiting on a counter next to the stove.

“Why don’t you cut some cookies, Mom?”  The little one said.

There wasn’t enough money to buy cookie dough for all three of them and she felt it important that they have the most fun.  Putting on her most convincing tone, she looked at her, smiled and heard herself say.  “Oh no, honey.  You go ahead.  I’m the baker.”

“Edie, hand me the tree.”  The older girl held her hand out.

Edie, her sister?  Wait that meant…  How could this be…?  She moved over to the counter to watch as they rolled their dough, scooping up the cut cookies and manning the pans.  Patiently baking, setting out supplies and cleaning, she watched while they finished cutting and then decorating.

While they were getting ready to turn in, she finished wiping down the counters and loading the dishwasher.  Carefully, she wrapped the plates of decorated cookies, not too tight to smear the frosting, and found room for them in the refrigerator.  Before she saw her, she felt the bounding energy come up behind her.

Edie grabbed her around the waist.  “Thanks for today, Mom.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”  She returned the hug and stroked her hair before the child bounded off toward the room she shared with her sister.

The older girl plodded out toward the kitchen, set a glass in the sink.

To her back, the surreal sense overwhelming, she asked.  “Fun today, Andi?”

“Sure, Mom.”  The older girl replied without turning around.  “Thanks.”

Inside, she felt a painful twinge.  There were no fond memories, no traditions for her growing up.  She desperately wanted that for herself and the girls.  Making cookies was something they’d started a few years ago, along with a couple of other inexpensive traditions; she could only hope it would make special moments for them, even if she wasn’t the best at it.

                                                                         iii

As she came out of slumber, she rolled over in the bed and stretched even before opening her eyes.  Ahh, she thought.  Nothing but a sugar induced dream.  But peering into the dusky room, she recognized the room — and it wasn’t the one in her apartment.

Sitting up quickly, she realized it was also different than the room her mother had occupied when they lived in the apartment where they’d made cookies the night before — or what she’d thought was the night before.  What was going on?  Why was this happening to her? 

From outside, in what she knew to be the living room, she heard soft voices.  Rising, she padded quietly to the door and saw the two girls, one each on the couch and the matching two-seater, pointing to the pile of gifts under the tree — decorated just as the other had been.

“Merry Christmas, Mom!”  Edie greeted exuberantly.

“Merry Christmas.”  She replied wearily.  It had been a late-night gift wrapping after they’d gone to sleep, or to bed at least.  Wait, how did she know that?

“Can we open presents?”  Edie asked eagerly.

Andi just observed without comment.

“Let me get some coffee first.”   She started toward the kitchen. They lived in a house now and the floor plan was open.  “Why don’t you pass the presents out, Andi?”

Sluggishly, she began to move.

“I’ll do it!”  Edie volunteered cheerfully.

Andi sat back, clearly relieved.

“All right.”  She poured a cup of water, slipped it into the microwave and set the timer while opening a cannister sitting on the counter.  Scooping several heaping spoons into the steaming cup, she stirred and began moving slowly toward the living room.

It only took a few minutes for Edie to pass out the gifts.  She sat on the floor with the stack that were hers while Andi remained on the couch.

“Go ahead.”  She urged.  It had been some time since there had been any gifts for her, but she didn’t mind really.  Making sure they didn’t feel slighted was the important thing.

She was always grateful that they weren’t the kind of kids who tore through everything and looked around as if to say, “Is that it?”  They took time to admire each gift and to say thanks.  With a knowing smile, she watched as they gathered their things and started for their room. 

Andi, more of an extrovert, always got some trendy clothing from the mall, a cell phone today, maybe not the most popular or with a costly plan, but at least she had one now.  Edie, on the other hand, always asked for things that she could do.  A motorized car for her dolls today, and a skateboard, not the flashiest maybe, but a basic one to see if she was really interested in using it.  They would be occupied with Edie’s gifts, though Andi wouldn’t admit it.  She liked to think she was beyond that now.

She always spent every bit of her extra money, and sometimes a little more, attempting to get as many of the things on their lists as possible, even if it wasn’t the most expensive.  While they didn’t shop often, she always tried to see to it that they had nice things from the better stores.  Now, after a hot shower, she would assure they shared a nice dinner.

                                                                         Iv

After dinner, when everything was cleaned up and put away; the kids retired again to their room.  She decided to get into her lounge clothes, make a cup of warm eggnog and watch an old Christmas movie.  It had been a tiring day after the late night she’d spent.

She added some cinnamon to the warm, frothy beverage and enjoyed the fragrance as she curled up in front of the television and pushed play.

“Mom!”  Came Andi’s voice.

Rousing, she realized she must have dozed off.  For a moment, she was dazed as her eyes swept the room and she observed that it wasn’t the same but familiar… again.  Blinking several times to clear her head, she tried not to appear as disoriented as she felt.

Coming into view, Andi held a sleek phone, not like the one she’d received that first Christmas.  Fully grown, she had the independent air of a young woman.  She grinned.  “So, all my friends are jealous.”

“Really?  Why?”

“They know how much that stuff you got me costs.”

Remembering that it was Christmas, and that it had been only the two of them, she’d gone a little overboard.  It took a minute to recall that Edie, with her new husband Chaz, who was in the military, lived out of state right now and had been unable to get home but she had called.

Andi continued nonchalantly.  “Cara’s having a get together – well, a sleepover, really – with a bunch of the girls.  I’m gonna go, okay?”

Before she could think, she heard herself say, “On Christmas Day?”

She shrugged.  “Yeah, why not?  We’re not gonna do anything, right?”

A sting of disappointment pierced her.  She wouldn’t remind her that she was only home for a short time from school, much of which had been spent with her friends already.  She didn’t want to be that mom, so she forced her tone to remain light.  “I guess not.  Watch a movie maybe.”

“Cool.”  Andi turned back toward the hallway that led to her room.  “’Cause Jenn’s outside.”

She watched with a pale smile as her daughter went out, backpack in hand.  How was it that her daughter had no concept of spending holidays with family?  Had she failed so miserably?

Determined to hold on to her holiday spirit, she pulled out her favorite Christmas movie and settled in on the couch to watch.  Quickly engrossed, she forgot about everything around her… until a buzzing caught her attention.

Snapping into focus, she noticed it was light outside the window by her couch.  What?                                           Again? 

The buzzing sound continued, and she realized it was the phone on the cushion next to her.  Picking it up, she saw it was a text message from Edie.  We’re on our way.

Instinctively, she swept the landscape; realized she was in an apartment where she lived alone, and it was once again decorated for Christmas.  The lovely tree was familiar, and a shiny array of gifts sat nestled beneath it.  Also came the realization that it had been years since Andi had visited for the holidays, or even called.  The time showed late afternoon.

With a sigh, she knew that she’d been waiting all day for Edie’s text.  She also knew that they would come, the kids would open gifts in a flurry, and they would share a nice meal.  Then it would be over.  They would gather their things and leave.  She’d be alone… again.

Disheartening as it was, she reminded herself that she was lucky to have Edie, Chaz and the kids to spend even a little of the day with.  They had their own lives, the kids and Chaz’s family too.  Since his discharge from the service, they’d been located nearby.  Even though she didn’t see them often, at least they were here if she really needed anything.

v

This time when she woke, the surroundings were unfamiliar.  Looking about her, the room seemed sterile like a hospital or something similar.  Unnerved, she noticed she was lying in a bed.  It felt strange and confusing.  Where was she?  Who was she?

Two people dressed in street clothes entered.  The first to come in came and stood next to her.  Smiling tentatively, she appeared solemn.  In a quiet tone, she said, “Hi, Mom.”

Frowning, she drew her hand back as the young woman attempted to take it.  Her eyes moved over to the person who’d come in with her.  Obviously younger, her face showed compassion and she seemed familiar.

“Mom,” she said gently.  “It’s me, Edie.  And look who’s come to see you.  It’s Andi.”

Shaking her head, she couldn’t quite recall.  It seemed like she should know but she didn’t. 

Tears filled the older girl’s eyes, but she restrained them as her plaintive voice offered.  “I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you.  Mom, please… remember.”

From behind the two of them, a familiar form appeared.  This one she knew well. 

Hair as white as wool, face as bright as the sun and eyes like liquid love, His smile was so warm and inviting as if beckoning her, but He didn’t speak.  He just stood patiently.

“It’s time for me to go.”  She said softly.

“No, Mom, wait!”  The one called Andi pleaded. 

“He’s here… waiting for me.”

“But… Mom!”

vi

When she woke this time, she jerked upright.  Her cheeks were wet, as was the pillow she’d slept on but this room she recognized.  She was back in her apartment and in her own bed.

What had happened?  She wondered.  Could her mother really be ill or was it just a bad dream?  Suddenly ashamed, the guilt was almost more than she could bear.  How bad was that? Her own mother could be dying, and she had no idea.

Just as quickly, the scenes from her dream came rushing to her memory and she understood something.  All her life, she’d taken her for granted; despised her even, wishing for the kind of mother other girls had and for more of the things she thought she wanted.  It had taken her far from home, never to return, and down a path she hadn’t been taught to live.

Seeing from her mother’s perspective, she knew now: even in spite of her shortcomings and failings, her mother had loved her, sacrificed repeatedly to give her everything she could and tried to raise her to live a good life; the godly life she had discovered after making many of the mistakes she tried to help her daughters keep from making.  She had given her best, especially at Christmas.

Right behind the realization came another.  This time, a still, small voice she hadn’t heard in years said, “I gave my best at Christmas too.”

Familiar words she’d heard so many times growing up filled her heart.  For God so loved the world He gave His only begotten son that whosoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.

How?  How had she been so oblivious?  So blind?  So selfish and self-serving?  Life was a gift and she had refused it.  Slipping from the bed onto her knees, she didn’t know why, but she felt the need to whisper.  “God… I’m so sorry.  I didn’t value, didn’t even recognize, the gift you so freely and graciously offered.  If you still want me, I want to accept that gift now.”

Peace flooded her heart and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt clean.  Grabbing her phone from the bedstand, she texted Edie.  Is Mom okay?  She’s not sick or anything, is she?

No.  Came the reply.  Why?

Has she moved?

Why are you asking?  Is something up?

No.  I just want to send a gift.

A gift?  Seriously? No, she hasn’t moved.

Cool., I’ve got to go.  She put down the phone and bounded for the shower.

vii

As the Uber came to a halt, she pulled her credit card out of her wallet and handed it to the driver.  With a smile, she said, “Add a fifteen percent tip.”

“Thank you,” he replied gratefully as he handed it back.

Opening the car door, she got out and pulled the rolling suitcase from the foot well on the other side.  “Thank you.  Have a Merry Christmas.”

He stared blankly and then nodded slightly.

Making her way up the cleared walk, she observed the house.

Single story, it appeared well maintained, if not quite modern.  A lush, pretty wreath adorned the door and a warm glow emanated from the two windows on either side.

For a moment, she hesitated.  It had been far too long.  What if…?

She shook it off, strode purposefully to the door and knocked.

The woman who answered was older than she remembered but appeared in good health.  As if stupefied, she stared.

“Merry Christmas, Mom.”  A wave of dread washed over her as her worst fear seemed realized.  “Mom, it’s me, Andi.”

“Is it really you?”  She smiled, opening her arms.  “I didn’t think…”

“I know.”  She admitted regretfully as she moved into the embrace tentatively.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”

Her mother squeezed, holding on for a moment.  “You’re really here.”

Pulling back, Andi admitted.  “I’m here.  But I didn’t have time to shop.”

“Oh, honey.”  Her mother chided.  “Don’t you know the only gift I wanted was for you to come home?”

Now she hugged her again.  Gifts.  More precious than anything bought in a store or laid under a tree, gratitude overwhelmed her.  A second chance, a new life and time to enjoy both.  So much more than a Merry Christmas.