Watching a rerun of Monk. It’s August so naturally, a Christmas episode is on. It starts out with an office party at the precinct. I’ve been to a few office parties. They weren’t as good as the ones on tv. They were mostly boring. Not much fun and no murders.
But then I thought of my mom – as I often do. There were times she pulled Christmas out of thin air.
One year my mother had been in the hospital. When it got close to Christmas, she told us she had no money and couldn’t afford to buy gifts. We didn’t care. We were happy she was home and that we were all together. So, on Christmas morning we weren’t expecting anything. We were shocked to wake up to lots of presents under the tree. I always liked games and there were at least a dozen games for me. They were used. All the gifts under the tree were gently loved. She said she went to an auction.
She didn’t just whip up Christmases for us. There were Christmas parties she organized for the VFW. And the shows and skits she produced and directed for her senior center. She entertained at a nursing home one year. She plays Christmas carols on the piano for us and others. But watching Monk, one particular Christmas memory surfaced.
At one point my mom worked in an office and got laid off in the Fall. She found another job right away, but it only lasted about six months because in the Spring, the company that laid her off asked her to come back.
When December rolled around, she got a phone call from someone she’d worked with for those six months. She invited my mom to their annual Christmas party, saying, “Last year when you were here, it was the best party we ever had!”
