The Ice Cutters, 1911, Natalia Goncharova
Lisa
reached into the back corner of the closet. She stood on her toes
and tugged with her fingers, and finally the box came free. She
carefully pulled it out and stepped down from the chair. The last
box. She hoped it was the one she wanted.
As
she set it next to the other boxes on the floor, Lisa heard little
feet coming down the hall. Was naptime over already?
“Mommy,
I waked up,” Josh announced. “What’s in the boxes?”
Caleb
followed his brother on loyal little legs. “Peasants?” he
suggested hopefully.
“No,
not presents. Just some things we haven’t unpacked yet.”
Josh
peered into one box and pulled out a tiny sweater. “Whose is
this?”
“You
used to wear that when you were a baby. And so did Caleb. Put it
back, please.”
Caleb
toddled over to Lisa and patted her belly. “Baby.”
“Yes,
the new baby will wear it, too. But not for a while.”
Josh
was already investigating the clothes in another box. “Did I wear
these?”
“Yes,
but–”
Caleb
pulled a skirt out of a third box, and knitted his blond brows
together. “I wear this?”
“No,
that’s mine.”
“Mommy
was baby?”
“Mommy
wore that before you were a baby, and hopes she’ll be able to wear
it again someday.” Lisa sighed, and refolded the skirt. “Anyway,
I’m not looking for clothes right now. I’m–no, don’t touch
that one!”
Lisa
swung Caleb away from the box containing the equipment and remnants
from her stained glass class. Someday she’d get back to that
again, too, but it was not a safe hobby to practice with toddlers in
the house.
“What
are you looking for?” Josh asked.
“Christmas
ornaments.”
“Kiss-miss?”
Caleb repeated.
“Yes.
I’ve looked through all the boxes but this one. Shall we see
what’s inside?” Lisa picked up her scissors and slit the tape.
Her heart thumped with anticipation. The bright colors, the familiar
shapes, must be right there beneath her fingers. She opened the
flaps.
Papers.
Kevin’s college notes. No wonder the box was so heavy.
The
little boys looked inside. “No Kiss-miss?” Caleb stuck out his
lower lip.
Lisa
sank to the floor. “No. The movers must have left my box of
ornaments in Grandma’s garage.” She wiped a tear from her eye.
Josh
wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “It’s okay, Mommy. Come
on, Caleb. Let’s play trains.”
“Choo-choo!”
Caleb hooted as the boys pattered back to their room.
Lisa
knew she should put away the boxes and prepare the room for guests.
But she felt drained after her fruitless search. She went downstairs
for a glass of water, hoping Kevin would be home soon to help with
the lifting.
She
looked around the small living room. It was comfortable, but not
very festive. She had hoped to be all ready for Christmas before
Kevin’s parents came to visit. She’d bought the groceries and
done most of the cleaning. But Kevin had been working late, training
for his new job. He was too tired to decorate when he came home.
They had not even bought a tree.
Lisa
brightened. Maybe Kevin’s parents could find the box of ornaments
and bring it along tomorrow. She gave them a call.
No
answer. They must be still at work. Lisa left a message, and hung
up with a little more hope.
It
had been a blessing to live with Kevin’s folks, Dale and Donna.
They had invited the young family to stay after Kevin graduated, just
until he found a good job. The few weeks he expected had turned into
two years, though, as Kevin applied for position after position. He
worked some odd jobs during that time, and played with the little
boys, but he’d spent more and more time grumbling about the economy
and playing video games. Lisa was grateful that they’d had a
comfortable place to live all that time. They’d never gone hungry.
But she knew her husband hated depending on his parents.
Everyone
was thrilled when Kevin was hired. Lisa loved the fresh sparkle in
his eye, his new sense of purpose and responsibility. She also
looked forward to setting up their own home, having their own space,
and starting their own traditions.
As
the moving van rolled away, scattering the fallen leaves, Donna
pulled Kevin into a tight squeeze. “We’ll miss you so much, but
we’re so proud of you.”
“That’s
right.” Dale gave Josh a tickle before buckling him into his car
seat. “But you’ll be back for Christmas, won’t you?”
Lisa
looked at Kevin with concern. His parents’ Christmas celebrations
were too glitzy for her taste.
“I
won't earn much leave by then,” Kevin said. “We’ll probably be
staying in our new home.”
Lisa
breathed a small sigh of relief as she buckled her own safety belt.
“Then
we’ll come visit you,” Dale declared.
“You
bet,” Donna agreed. “It wouldn’t be Christmas without a child
in the house!”
Kevin
waved as he drove the car away, but Lisa felt frozen.
She’d
had some time to thaw over the past couple of months, and had
determined to show her in-laws a Christmas her
way. A nice dinner on Christmas day, not a Christmas Eve
extravaganza. Homemade cookies. Singing carols around the–well,
someday she’d get a piano. Singing carols around the CD player,
then. And a real tree. A small one, to be sure. Expense and living
room space dictated that. But she looked forward to arranging her
small collection of ornaments on a sweet-smelling fresh tree. Lisa
closed her eyes, imagining the aroma.
“Behold
the conquering hero!”
Lisa’s
eyes flew open as the front door slammed. Little feet pounded down
the stairs, and cries of “Daddy!” filled the air. Lisa struggled
up from the couch.
Kevin
swung the two boys into the living room, then caught Lisa in a hug.
“I’ve completed my certification. I'll meet my first client
after Christmas!”
Lisa
gave him a kiss. “That’s wonderful, dear,” she said. “Oh,
look at the time. I haven’t started dinner yet.”
“No
big deal,” Kevin said. “Let’s pick something up on the way.”
“On
the way to where?” Josh asked.
“To
buy a Christmas tree.”
Lisa
and the boys cheered, and the family piled into the car. After
supplying everyone with hamburgers and fries, Kevin drove straight to
the tree stand in the mall’s parking lot. The brightly colored
lights turned off as they approached. Kevin stepped out to talk to a
man who was sweeping pine needles.
“All
sold out, sir,” Lisa heard him say. “They went fast this year.
You could try the supermarket, or the lot on Old Holly Road.”
There
were no trees left at the supermarket, either. Lisa and Kevin had
different ideas about how to find Old Holly Road, and it took them a
while to reach it. When they finally found the tree lot there, it
was empty, too.
“Maybe
this is why Mom and Dad use a fake tree,” Kevin said, leaning on
the steering wheel. “Is it normal to run out the day before
Christmas Eve?”
“I
don’t think so,” Lisa answered. “Where I grew up, most lots
had a few scraggly trees left even after Christmas.”
“Huh.
Well, we’d better take the kiddos home.” Kevin nodded at the
boys. They were asleep in their car seats, and Caleb was losing his
grip on a handful of fries.
After
helping Lisa set up the guest room, Kevin spent most of Christmas Eve
shopping. Lisa wondered if he would come home with a fake tree. If
he did, she’d be stuck with it, probably forever. Ugh. But having
no Christmas tree would be worse.
She
tried not to think about it as she rolled out sugar cookie dough.
She helped Caleb wield a star-shaped cookie cutter with his pudgy
fingers. Josh cut out a cookie and held it up. “Is this what our
tree will look like?” he asked. He wiggled the tree shape until it
broke and fell to the counter, leaving just the point in his hand.
“Probably
so.” Lisa squished the dough together and rolled it out so Josh
could try again.
“Will
we put up a 'table?” he asked.
“This
is the table.”
“No,
a Christmas 'table.”
Lisa
frowned, trying to read Josh's mind. “Oh.” She remembered that
Dale built an elaborate train set on the coffee table each Christmas.
“You mean like Grandpa's? We don't have anything like that.”
"Why
not?"
Lisa
slid the cookie sheet into the oven, and the front door opened.
“Don’t
look,” Kevin called, sweeping past with something held behind his
back.
Josh
covered his eyes with his hands. Caleb put his hands on his own
face, but missed one eye.
“Did
you bring a tree, Daddy?” Josh shouted.
Kevin
looked around the corner. “No, but I have an idea. Come here,
kiddos.” They followed him to the living room, and he shut the
kitchen door.
Lisa
finished baking the cookies and started some soup for dinner. A pair
of headlights swept up the driveway as she stirred. Donna's sweater
sparkled as she came through the door. “Merry Christmas Eve, Lisa,
honey,” she said with her usual broad smile.
Dale
followed her inside, carrying a box. “We couldn’t find your box,
Lisa, but we thought you might like these.” He set the box on the
table.
Lisa’s
face fell as she looked inside. Instead of the treasures her own
grandparents had sent each year, or the cute ornaments her crafty
aunts had made, there were packages of silver bells, violet balls,
strings of blue lights, and a huge silver star. They had never been
opened.
“We
can’t use these.”
“Sure,
you can! We bought them all on clearance last January,” Donna said
with a wink.
“But
we don’t have a tree.”
The
kitchen door opened. “Yes, we do,” said Kevin. “Come see.”
The
little boys rushed at their grandparents, who paused for hugs and
tickles. Kevin took Lisa by the hand and led her to the living room.
On the floor she saw that a large moving box had been cut in the
shape of a fir tree. The boys had obviously been coloring it, with
large swathes of green ink and little patches of green crayon.
Tears
came to Lisa’s eyes. Kevin put his arm around her. “It doesn't
smell great, but I think we can have some fun with it. Okay?”
Lisa
wiped her eyes and smiled. “I’ll go find the construction
paper.”
After
supper, Kevin led the way to the living room, flexing his muscles.
“So, I cut this tree myself, and hauled it all the way from the
shed with my bare hands. Let's dress it up.”
Dale
frowned. “That's not a tree. That's a tree by-product.”
“Start
producing some decorations for it, then.”
Dale
chuckled. “I'm no artist. You kids go ahead without me.”
“I'll
help you.” Josh handed his grandfather a piece of orange paper.
“Draw around my hand, Grandpa.”
“Me,
too,” insisted Caleb, and the decorating began.
Donna
snipped lacy snowflakes to tape to the cardboard tree. Lisa tied
yarn into bows. The boys colored their handprints, then drew stars,
train engines, and more abstract shapes.
Dale
traced his own hand, colored it like a turkey, and cut it out, too.
“I call it, 'Self-Portrait,'” he said, taping it onto the tree.
Donna
rolled her eyes. “That's you, all right. Full of stuffing and
nonsense.”
Kevin
searched the Internet for origami instructions, and busied himself
with sheets of aluminum foil. He showed Lisa his creations.
“Christmas
cranes?” she asked.
He
grinned. “Silver swans a-swimming.”
Soon
the flat tree was covered with colorful, fanciful, utterly original
decorations.
“This
certainly is unique,” Donna said, surveying their work. “I'll
never forget this little tree.”
“Neither
will I,” Lisa agreed. “But how will it stand up?”
“Got
it covered,” said Kevin. “Make me another big bow, will you?”
He looped some yellow yarn through a hole near the point of the tree.
After attaching Lisa's bow, he hung the loop on a hook in the
ceiling. The cardboard tree dangled, swinging slightly in the breeze
from the heating vent.
“Pity,”
said Caleb.
“Yes,
it's a very pretty Christmas tree,” Lisa said, hugging her sons,
“though I feel like I've forgotten to do something.” She yawned.
“What
about a 'table?” Josh asked.
“Not
now, Josh.”
“The
tree is just fine this way,” Kevin declared, “and you're tired.
Go ahead and get the boys into their pajamas. I'll take care of the
dishes.”
Lisa
woke with a start. “Did you hear that?” Kevin
did not respond. How could he not hear it? Lisa shook his shoulder.
“Kevin, what's that sound?”
He
rolled over and grunted at the darkness. “Huh?”
“That
rustling sound. Listen.” Lisa sat up, heart pounding. “There's
a light on, too.”
Kevin
raised himself up on one elbow. “I doubt our presents would
attract burglars,” he said.
“Well, probably not.”
The gifts they had set out, after tucking the boys in, made a pretty
meager pile.
“I
bet it's Mom and Dad, sneaking some more packages downstairs. Go
back to sleep.” He rolled over again.
Lisa
lay down, breathing deeply, willing her heart to stop racing.
She
woke again to the sound of giggling. Weak sunlight glowed around the
edges of the window blinds.
Kevin
sat up. “It must be Christmas morning,” he said, grinning.
Lisa
pulled on her robe and headed for the boys' room. “I wish your dad
wouldn't tickle the boys awake.”
“He
was already awake, weren't you, little man?” Dale laughed along
with the toddler.
“Merry
Kiss-miss, Mommy!” Caleb called when he caught his breath.
“Merry
Christmas, sweetie. But where's Josh?”
“I
dunno.” Caleb collapsed in a fresh round of giggles.
Lisa
walked down the hall to the guest room. “Josh, are you bothering
Grandma?”
Donna
put down her magazine. “He's no bother, but he isn't in here.”
Lisa
grabbed handfuls of her own hair. “Where's Josh?”
Kevin
looked out of the boys' room, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“He
isn't there, he isn't here.” Frantic, she hugged herself. “I
heard noises
last night. Maybe someone took
him!”
Kevin
put one hand on Lisa's shoulder, and smoothed her hair with the
other. “Calm down, Lisa. He's
probably getting a head start on the presents. Let's
take a look
downstairs.”
Caleb
and his grandparents followed silently
as Kevin led Lisa down the stairs. At the bottom, she
closed her eyes, afraid of
what she might see. Kevin stepped out into the living room.
Soon
he returned and took Lisa's hand. “Come and see,” he said
quietly. Lisa let out the breath she was holding, and followed him.
The
gifts had not been disturbed, but there was a mess beneath
the dangling cardboard tree. Josh lay curled there
in a nest of crayons. Lisa
dropped to his side, giving his round cheek a grateful kiss. Josh's
blue eyes opened in the pale morning
light.
“What
are you doing down here?” she asked. “You gave me such a
fright.”
Josh
looked surprised. “Sorry, Mommy. In the night I waked up, and I
made the 'table
you forgot. Look.” He
pointed to a folded piece of cardboard, standing
near the trunk of the swinging tree. Lisa picked it up.
Brown
crayon marked walls and a roof. A
yellow star with eight or nine points shone at the top. Smiles
split the round faces of three figures within—one
wearing blue, with long hair, one with a pointy brown beard, and a
small one between them, balanced on an X. Curly-hided
animals stood nearby, smiling, too.
“The
stable. You're right, that's just what we need.” Lisa wiped her
eyes.
Caleb
knelt down next to her, and pointed reverently
to the central figure in the
drawing. “Baby.”
Lisa
sat on the couch, sipping hot chocolate. She watched as Dale chased
Josh through a tunnel of empty moving
boxes. She leaned her head
on her husband's shoulder. “The boxes were a great idea, dear.”
Kevin grinned. Dale poked his
head through a window in one box. “They're just like you. No
matter what we gave you,
you'd just play with the boxes.” Then he roared, and crawled after
Caleb while Donna snapped photos.
Lisa
looked around the room. She could barely hear the Christmas music
from the CD player. The cardboard tree swung. Wrapping
paper, crayons,
and packing peanuts littered the floor. It was not quite the vision
she had had for Christmas morning. But it was perfect. She picked
up the cardboard Nativity and studied it again.
“Your
mom was right, Kevin.”
“Huh?”
“It
just wouldn't be Christmas without the Child.”
For more Christmas tales, see my Anthologies page
