Page 3 of Holly Jolly
I nodded eagerly and approached him. “You made all these toys?”
“I did,” he replied with pride in his tone. “Been making them for over fifty years now.”
“Wow,” I breathed out in amazement, taking one of the trains into my hands to examine it more closely.
The detail work was impeccable; each piece carefully crafted to fit together perfectly without any rough edges or splinters that could harm small fingers.
As it slowed down, I popped outside for a small breather. The snow had stopped falling and the streets were filled with the sound of laughter and carols. Everywhere I looked, families and friends were coming together to celebrate the season. There were children playing in the snow, couples walking hand in hand, and friends sharing stories around a warm fire. I could feel the love in the air, and my heart filled with a deep longing.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't help but feel lonely in that moment. The holidays were a reminder of my parents, and it was hard to let go of the memories we'd shared. I suddenly felt a sense of purpose, though, and I remembered why I was here. I had a responsibility to bring joy to others, and that was something I could do on my own.
I watched families come in and fill their bags with food and toys to take home for the holidays. I was filled with a sense of joy as I saw the smiles on their faces. It made me feel like I was a part of something bigger, like I was truly making a difference in someone else's life.
3
Ethan
December 23rd
The oven buzzed at us, and she removed the snickerdoodle cookies and set the pan on the top of the stove. There’s nothing better than the smell of freshly baked cookies, especially my mom’s. She said it’s a secret recipe and doesn’t want to share it with anyone.
After she removed her apron and deposits it on the counter, she headed upstairs to grab her heavy coat, and I grabbed mine from the hook by the front door. You won’t survive a Michigan winter without a heavy jacket. The forecast projected the low for tonight to be twenty-degrees, and the wind was vicious at night. Neither of us needed to get sick right before Christmas and be miserable.
I lingered by the door for her, hoping that this would make her happy, and she would lay off most of the other traditions since I’m compromising. Doubt it. Things for her hadn’t been all that easy since losing my dad and brother, but she had accelerated through everything life threw at her, and came out the other side with a smile on her face. I’m sure sometimes her happiness was fake, but I don’t voice my skepticism. Even this visit, I knew her heart was heavy thinking about our loss, and remembering the many Christmases we got to spend with them. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t make me tear up thinking about it. Yet, she seemed so calm and collected this year.
Footsteps came down the staircase, and she appeared in a pink jacket that reminded me of a bubble mailer you use to ship things. A laugh escaped my throat as I opened the door, ushering her out, and shutting it behind us.
“I’ll let you drive. You know I hate driving in the snow,” I responded, when she tried to hand me the keys.
She shook her head and laughed. “You lived here for eighteen years. How do you not know how to drive?”
“Don’t make fun of me, okay. Just drive.”
The key shifted in the ignition and she gradually pulled out of the driveway, the packages in the rear sloshing around from the slight dip from the driveway to the asphalt road. The SUV started to build up traction and we were off.
“Are you meeting up with any of your old friends while in town?” she asked. “You remember, James, he just got married and had a baby. Never thought he would find a woman that could handle him.”
I thought about reaching out to some of my old buddies from the football team, but honestly, I just wanted to keep my head down and spend time with her. You know, soak up the last few Christmases I had with her, because tomorrow was never promised. The day I lose her, my whole world was going to shatter, because right now she was my only support system, my only confidant. Her opinion meant the world to me. And when I did find the future mother of my children, her blessing would mean everything.
The snow crunched beneath the tires, and it was still coming down, and the windshield wipers could only help so much. It was a fluffy sort of snow at least, instead of sleet, which was a hundred times better when you were trying to get somewhere. A couple years ago when I came up, we went on a Walmart run and slid off the road. We walked away without any scratches, but it cemented the fact that driving here is a lot different than Texas.
Her SUV trailed up into the parking lot in front of Fa La La, it’s a local store that was only open in November and December, and as a child it was the place to go. It wasn’t like those big department stores, the family who ran it, they made almost everything themselves. It gave off the old school vibes; you know, back when they made rocking horses and trains out of wood, carved by a local craftsman, and everyone gathered around to look at it. The prices were higher, but it was worth it and it’s supporting a local family which made it all the better.
The outside had lights strung from the entryway and around the big glass window displaying this year's newest craftsmanship, a navy blue and yellow carved train, going around the tracks. Okay, so maybe I didn’t hate Christmas, and this would help push me into the festivities. I never missed visiting this place when in town.
My fondest memory of Fa La La was when my brother, Stephen, and I got to pick out a gift for each other. Mom and Dad brought us here and told us we had fifteen dollars to spend on the other. Thinking back to it, it probably annoyed them how long we stayed in the store, searching for the perfect gift for each other. That was the year Stephen gave me a black and red train. I was obsessed with trains as a kid, and even now, I had most of the ones given to me as a collection.
“We’re here!”
After she parked, I unbuckled and grabbed the boxes from the back, stacking them up almost to where I can’t see over them. It must have slipped my mind that they had a donation center for the local children’s shelter that my mother donated to. Every child should get something for Christmas, even if it was something small. It stirred from her growing up in a very poor family, where they focused on the family meal, instead of presents. Christmas shouldn’t be revolved around what you get, but every child should at least get least something. The believability of Santa only worked if they thought he was real and if he doesn’t make it to their house, then why would the children continue to believe?
I followed her inside, trying to be careful and not slip on any hidden patches of ice that might be lurking around, but we made it to the front door and a woman opened it for us. Her cheeks were flushed, but she had the most gorgeous blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I knew those eyes.
“Holly, is that you?” I asked, wondering what she was doing back here. The last thing I knew of was her going off to Law School.
“In the flesh. Are those donations?” she asked, pointing to the stacked boxes.
“Yes, where would you like them?” I asked, looking around the boxes for confirmation as she pointed toward the back of the store. “I haven’t seen you since graduation. What are you doing back here?”
