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A DIFFERENT KIND OF CHRISTMAS

Christmas came too quickly this year. Florence Holly the rotund English housekeeper at 112 Garland Street untied the five black plastic bags she had brought down from the attic. With expert fingers, she refreshed the wilted silk petals on flowers, straightened leaves, and branches and one by one placed them in their designated places. One thing remained awaiting the crown jewel in the center of the room, the live Christmas tree.

When the twentieth of December passed, Ms. Holly's hope of a tree waned and with each passing day it became more certain there would be no tree. The twenty-fourth arrived.
"Florence I will be leaving shortly. Please see that you turn security on before you leave. You know the neighborhood."
"Yes Mrs. Oliver, I certainly will. A Merry Christmas to you and yours and I'll see you in two days."

Mrs. Oliver, the slender lone woman in her sixties, elegantly dressed in matching reds, bagged the lovingly wrapped gifts and sped off to her daughter's home. A glance backward brought a sense of regret that soon she would return and there would be no brightly lit tree to welcome her. At other times, since Edward died five long years ago, she would ultimately relent and go out into the dark night with Ms. Holly to pick a tree. Her late husband had proclaimed his choice of trees the best ever. She had agreed, every successive year of their life together. This year the irresistible urge to buy a tree had not come.

"Grandma is here everybody!" someone yelled amidst the chatter and laughter of children. Christmas began once again and once again, it was very good.
"Grandma, come let me show you where you came from!" said young Theodore, her grandson. He pulled her along to the corner of the room where he had started his computer up.
"Oh Teddy, it's all right, and we don't need to do that now," she said resisting, diverting her attention to her daughter.
"Mom, I thought you might enjoy that program. I'm disappointed," her daughter said.
"Well then, let's go home!" said Grandma sitting down at the computer. She felt her grandson draping himself over her, giving directions.
"Plug in the name of your hometown Grandma!" he commanded. "Now, the country," she did, watching the screen, not really believing.
"There!" she whispered astonished and as excitement rose so did her voice. "The lake and the church!" Her hand, resting on the mouse, began timidly to explore the wooded area surrounding the dark, deep-looking lake.

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