Book Segment #14: December 24 - Different

12.24.05

The Night Before -- Different

I called tonight to speak with Victoria and John. This is the first Christmas Eve in 25 years spent without some member of my immediate family. John is in San Diego, Victoria in Ashland Oregon, Valerie in Nashville and me in Dallas. I was sitting on the back steps of my mother’s condominium scanning the surrounding buildings for Christmas lights; to breathe in some familiar feelings. There were some white twinkling lights adorning one of the unit’s windows in the far right corner of the parking spaces. In the distance was the top of an office building with red lights…unfortunately they only spelled out “hotels.com.” The temperature was a yuletide-chilling 65˚. Good thing; the fireplace in my mom’s house was only for decoration anyway.

Different.

I sat there in between the rings, hoping the kids would answer. I just wanted to hear a familiar voice. I tried to lean into the difference of this new moment and accept it; not worse or better, just different. And then I drifted back in time to an older moment, and I thought about what it must have been like to be any one of the people who actually lived near that small manger that day before. What were the scents and sounds of animals like that were stirring in and around the unadorned space? Maybe there was a small fire burning, flickering and casting shadows that danced across the wall, anticipating a celebration. What were the sounds like as people passed by? Did they peer in? Were they drawn to the space? Did they notice the two sojourners? Or was it a non-event; people in the midst of the normal comings and goings - winter’s movements to warmer rooms and Spartan meals? Did Joseph and Mary really understand how this day would impact us for eternity? Did Joseph sit outside and look around at the surrounding lights of Bethlehem, or did he look up to the skies at what must have been a blizzard of stars spilled over an ebony blanket?

Different.

I was going to tell Victoria about the “entertaining” Christmas Eve I was spending with my mother, brother and eccentric (nicer than saying “nutty”) aunt from Branson, Missouri. It was definitely Chanukah here in the Kagan house, with the multiple menorahs, chocolate “gelt” (Hebrew for coins), a dreidel and yes, even a Chanukah stocking hanging over the fireplace. I decided that for a change I would be proactive and suggest a new interaction – game playing! We tried a game I have recently discovered; Mexican Train dominoes. Well…between my mother’s repeating…and repeating…and repeating questions...the SAME DAMN questions --- and my aunt’s VEEEEEERRRRRRRRYYYYYY SLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW studying of moves and repeating…and repeating…and repeating questions...the SAME DAMN questions. Then, my brother GROWING more and more impatient…and crescendo “JUST MOVE” exhortations. Then, the eye contacts. It was really hysterical. A scene right out of Seinfeld or a Woody Allen film. I wanted to share the scene with Victoria to make her laugh a little. She had called earlier, obviously in the midst of crying; she talked about how sad she was with the situation between her mom and me. She had just gotten off the phone with Valerie, opening the gifts that they had exchanged by mail. She told me that Valerie had sent her an angel ornament (an annual tradition) and a Snow Baby white porcelain character. I guess this is what triggered the tears. “Dad, you know what character it was? It was a girl standing with her head leaning back to catch a snowflake on her tongue.” There was a long pause on the line; we were both immediately swept back to a moment many years ago while living in our first Nashville home. It was a late winter night and Victoria, probably 11 or 12 years old, came to wake me o tell me about the blizzard we were having. Startled, I stumbled out of bed and followed her down the stairs to look out the back sliding glass door. I turned on the light, squinting from the stabbing blast of white. The first image was like a shower of large polka dots streaking across the darkness. “Wow!” That’s all we could say as we looked at each other, wonder exploding in our eyes. “I want to go out. Come on, Dad. Let’s go.”

That’s all it took. It didn’t matter what time it was or how cold it might have been outside. Victoria asked me to join her and share this rare, gossamer Tennessee moment. Our movements were instinctive, like an animal bursting from captivity towards its freedom. We both gathered the first coats we could grab from the closet. She took my worn-out old green zippered coat with a hood. She was zipped up and out the door before I even had a chance to pick a coat. I went out the door right behind her. The image I encountered is indelibly carved into my heart. She was standing to the left of the driveway near the garage door on the sloped hill in front of the house. Her head was tilted back, eyes closed, and tongue extended to catch the lucky snowflakes that would land and melt into her soul.

Different.

I am now sitting in the living room in mom’s Dallas condo. My computer screen reads 11:15 PM. My mom and aunt are in bed. My brother went home and hour ago. All the lights have been turned off. The only illumination remaining is the small-iron-twin-elephants-sitting-with-lampshades-balancing-on-their-trunks-fixture-on-the-table-to-my-left. Not a creature is stirring. Not even Bentley who is laying next to me, tucked snugly between my left hip and the inside left arm of the overstuffed chair and ottoman. He slumbers with thoughts and dreams of long, sunny, warm walks and yummy Christmas treats.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

I wonder what Joseph was thinking.

Different.