Christmas card giving is almost becoming a lost
art.So many people prefer to send emails and e-cards these days. I prefer to
look and have in my possession the physical thing. I love old fashion Christmas
cards. Every year when I receive cards on I add it to a growing pile that I
take out every year and lovingly look at. I have many cards from relatives. I
also have many cards from friends in high school and many other friends over
the years. Each holds a story or a memory I cherish. Each year at Christmas
time I take out those cards and remember each one of those people.
But I also
have to admit I love looking at the beautiful pictures on each one and enjoy
the new ones people send me each year. So this week story is about a Christmas
Card.
The
Christmas Card
Echo;
noun: A sound or series of sounds caused by the reflection of sound waves from
a surface back to the listener; a close parallel or repetition of an idea,
feeling, style, or event; verb: (Of a sound) be repeated or reverberate after
the original sound has stopped.
Hardship;
noun: Severe suffering or privation.
Softly;
adverb: In a quiet voice or manner; with a gentle or slow movement; in a
pleasantly subdued manner.
The Christmas Card
The sun came tumbling over the horizon and the newly
fallen snow, lay crisp and clean on the ground untainted by the cars exhaust as
Grace hurried home through the deep snow as flakes fell softly all around her..
The building her apartment was in was old and decrepit but the rent was cheap
and she could afford it on her salary. She would be alone for Christmas and
what was worse come the New Year out of a job. It was December the twenty third
and she had no provisions for Christmas and could ill afford the money she
would spend to buy any, but she oh how she craved them. She remembered the
Christmases of long ago; the smells of cloves and clementines, the taste on
your lips of sweet candies, mints and striped candy canes. She wanted to see
the interactions of people at the stores this time of year. It was almost like
she could pretend she hadn’t gone through hardship her entire life and that she
was one of those happy shoppers. That she wasn’t invisible in this life. That
she didn’t spend every day cleaning offices at night seeing no one.
Grace made a decision she would go home grab her mad
money, get some breakfast and then shop for some foods for Christmas, maybe she’d
even buy a small present for herself. As she walked to the nearby dinner she
saw her mailman hefting his brimming mail bag.
“Hello, Grace. I have some mail for you,” he said
handling Grace what appeared to be some bills, then he continued delivering his
load of mail and parcels.
Grace continued onto the diner opening bills as she
walked. When she reached the diner she sat down and ordered and began to open
her mail. Opening an envelope out popped a Christmas card. Who would be sending
her a Christmas card? Inside the card tied with a lovely red ribbon a ring with
a small diamond. She read...
Dearest Grace
We met on a night
with a full moon and danced the night away, but war took me away from you. I
have enjoyed your beautiful letters and your stories of your everyday life. They
have kept me sane, when bullets reined over my body and the sounds and echoes
of rockets burst over my head. I look at your picture every day and carry it
close to my heart. I love you with all my heart. I know this isn’t a big ring,
but it’s all I can afford. I’ll be home for Christmas and if you feel the same
as I do meet me in the diner where we first met on December 24 and tell me yes.
We will marry on Christmas day. If you don’t show, I’ll understand and take
that as a no and never bother you again.
Love, Roberto
She didn’t know any Roberto. This card wasn’t meant for her. She
glanced at the envelope it said Grace but the last name was smudged. In the
corner of the envelope she read December fourteenth nineteen forty two. How was
this possible? It was twenty twelve. The card had been lost in the mail.
Obviously the first place to look was at the
address. It was the same as hers. This Grace had lived in her apartment. Poor Roberto! Had he
sent this ring to be rejected because it was lost in the mail? And what about
Grace had she still found her Roberto? Grace decided then a there she would
look into this mystery and return this ring to Grace. The first person to ask
was the lovely old lady in 3G. Mrs.Donnelly had been here since the thirties. She
was ninety five years old but spry and very aware. Maybe she could tell Grace
where to look.
©Sheilagh Lee December 19, 2012
To be continued
In a way perhaps it was meant for her..by whoever governs these things..she has a purpose now..she can step out of the shadows I hope..and the collection of cards is beautiful..you are right the physical sense of something posted is very important..like a piece of the other person..fits perfectly with your story..Jae
ReplyDeleteThis, I suspect, is going to be a charming story.
ReplyDeleteSome years ago, in England, an old postcard was delivered to a still existent address. The card had been mailed 101 years before, and the recipient was the grand-daughter of the person to whom it had been mailed in the first place.
thank you Jaerose I think sometimes things come to you for a reason and obviously this card is one of those things.
ReplyDeletethank you Altonian. what a wonderful thing to happen a piece of history in your hands.
ReplyDeleteOh.... another cliffhanger!!! LOL
ReplyDeleteIt's more fun that way in the anticipation,
ReplyDeleteGreat mystery. Can't wait to find out about the woman who was supposed to receive the ring.
ReplyDeletethank you Alice Audrey.
ReplyDeleteThis seems to have the makings of a real page turner.
ReplyDeletethank you Mary
ReplyDeleteBeautiful start...it seems a lovely story. Looking forward to reading the next part:)
ReplyDeletethank you Tarang
ReplyDeleteWonderful prose Sheila! A most welcomed change from the normal verses. Interestingly, I miss these postcards just as much! Physically touchable makes lots of difference. Nicely!
ReplyDeleteHank
thank you Kaykuala
ReplyDeleteChristmas cards...they are a joy to look at, I agree. And I love Christmastime stories...yours intrigues me! Enjoyed the mood and mystery of this segment.
ReplyDeletethank you poet laundry
ReplyDelete