The children were screaming and
running and far too excited about their Christmas school break. The park was
alive with children as Edgar shuffled along its outer rim. Usually on Mondays
he could leisurely stroll along the border of the park, feed the squirrels and
then head back home before it got too cold. He’d been able to do it a lot more
often these days due to the unseasonable warmth. Now that the kids were out of
school for their holiday break, Edgar wasn’t even sure he wanted to enter the
park. There were just too many kids running around like little maniacs and
Edgar didn’t want to lose his balance on his cane and fall if one of the little
rug-rats happened to nudge him or just scare him as they ran by. He’d forgotten
how much time kids got off from school these days. He remembered back when he
was a boy, 80 years ago, he only got Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off from
school. Now these kids seemed to have weeks and weeks off.
Edgar started to turn back from the
park and decided he’d head up toward the coffee place that all the young people
sit and type on their laptops. He thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so crowded
today since it was two days before Christmas. It was always too crowded and he
hated going in there, but they had such delicious coffee. He just hated going
in there when it was crowded because he hated being the old man that everyone
had to wait for. He didn’t really mind being old most days, but when he was in
the way of the younger folks, he could just feel their impatience with him
burning the back of his neck. He remembered how he had felt when some old coot
was in line in front of him when he was a young man. He remembered the
impatience he’d felt as some feeble codger was trying to make their way through
the checkout line at the store. So he understood that maybe the young folks didn’t
have the patience for him nowadays.
The children at the park screaming
with Christmas break joyfulness started to fade. Edgar thought that the lack of
any snow must be unfortunate for the kids these days. He felt like all his
childhood winters were completely snow bound. He remember years of snowball
fights with the other neighborhood boys and girls, the sledding, the ice
skating at Miss Jean’s pond, the constant fluttering of snow falling, endlessly
falling all through the Christmas season. Now these kids just had muddy, damp
fields to run around in without snow. Edgar had heard it had something to do
with the climate, but he’d really stopped paying attention to the news after
Margaret had died. She was the real newshound, not Edgar. Margaret would pour
over the morning paper all day and watch all the TV news shows. She always
wanted to know what was going on in the world. Edgar really just wanted to
relax and not get too involved in the goings-on of the world. It was going to
roll on without him at some point and he didn’t much care to think about it too
much. But he did remember Margaret telling him, “one day Edgar, there won’t be
any snow at Christmas because of this Global Warming and Climate Change”. Who
know then that she’d be right? Edgar sort of smiled as he walked. Margaret was
always right, who was he kidding.
The coffee shop around the corner
was one of those chain coffee spots, but the prices were pretty decent. Edgar
walked in and was immediately oppressed by the very loud Christmas music
blasting from the store’s overhead speakers. It was The Most Wonderful Time of the Year, if you wanted to go completely
deaf apparently. Edgar stood at the doorway for a moment and look up toward the
smiling cashier girl at the counter. She had said something to Edgar but he
couldn’t hear her because of the loud Christmas music.
“Pardon me,” he yelled.
The girl at the counter frowned at
him. He hadn’t expected her to frown. Maybe she hadn’t heard what he said so he
said it again, louder.
“Pardon me young lady,” he shouted.
She was still frowning but pointed
at Edgar to get in line; which was only three people deep. Edgar nodded and
limped slowly with his cane toward the back of the line. He was glad the place wasn’t crowded. The
middle aged woman in front of him, very wide in the hips, so wide that he big
winter coat appeared to have tiers, turned in front of Edgar and smiled. Edgar
smiled back. The music was still far too loud for Edgar but he was sure he saw
the middle aged woman say something to him. She looked at him and then pointed
at her own ear and said something again. It struck Edgar why it was so loud. He
had his hearing aid turned up way too high and it was emitting a terrible peal.
No wonder The Most Wonderful Time of the
Year was so unbearable.
Edgar took out his hearing aid and
turned the volume down to a normal level and put it back in his ear.
“Sorry, I usually turn it up when I
go for a walk so I can hear all the traffic and such,” said Edgar
apologetically.
“No problem, my mother does it all
the time,” said the Middle aged woman in front of Edgar.
“Thank you for telling me it was
squealing so much,” said Edgar.
“No trouble at all. Merry Christmas,”
said the Middle aged woman as she turned back toward the counter.
“Yes, Merry Christmas to you too,”
said Edgar.
Edgar felt like a stupid old man
suddenly. He let himself fall into that fantasy where he wasn’t 88 years old,
but he was still young. He didn’t feel old. He didn’t feel like this would be
his 88th Christmas on this Earth. He looked at his gnarled knuckles
on his left hand as it gripped his cane with such tightness. His hands didn’t
feel weak, just his knee really. That why he got the stupid cane, plus he’d
always wanted a cane like those proper English gentlemen he’d always read about
with their classy walking sticks. His cane was from Walgreen’s but still, it
was black and Edgar thought it did the job.
“Sir? Sir? Can I take your order,” asked
the young girl at the counter.
Edgar looked up from his hands to
see that the two people in front of him were gone off to the side, waiting to
get their coffee orders. At least there wasn’t anyone behind him to tell him to
hurry up or to, “move it old man”. Edgar
stepped up toward the counter.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized,
wondering why he was apologizing just for getting old, “I’ll have that middle
size mint chocolate coffee please,” said Edgar.
The young woman looked a little
surprised that Edgar knew what he was talking about as far as flavors of coffee
and sizes. He’d studied the menu before and had heard other people order in the
past so he knew how it was done.
“Name,” asked the young girl.
“Edgar,” he said.
She wrote his name on the mid-sized
cup. She took his four dollars and twenty five cents and then she smiled at
him.
“Thank you,” she said and she turned
to the barista.
Edgar smiled back a little and then
shuffled toward the front windows and sat down at one of the tables with a view
of the street and the park. The shop windows were decorated with various
Christmas lights and garland and were actually pretty tasteful. Edgar looked
out toward the park; over his head Frosty the Snowman was doing something on
the speakers, the noise of the coffee machines blending things together. Edgar
leaned forward a bit on his chair and cane. It had started snowing every so
lightly outside. The small flakes were drifting down gently, almost so you
wouldn’t notice. Edgar leaned back in his chair, he thought about Margaret and
how beautiful she looked all lit up by the Christmas tree lights glow. He
thought about rolling around in the snow with her before their first daughter
was born. He thought about how the house would smell of gingerbread and pine
tree at Christmas time. He thought about
the snow piling up, burying the city, deeper and deeper until no one could get
anywhere and all they could do was just enjoy the things they had.
“Edgar,” called the young woman’s
voice.
Edgar rose slowly from his seat and
picked up his coffee from the counter.
“Merry Christmas,” said the young
woman.
“Merry Christmas to you to,” smiled
Edgar.
He went back to his table, sat down,
watched the snow start to thicken on the sidewalk and did indeed feel like his
88th Christmas might be a merry one. Indeed.
