 |
| about jfm | |
our mission | |
our friends | |
news & press releases | |
contact justformom |
|
|
Cinnamon: A Gift of the Season "Friday, twenty six degrees outside, snowy. Anton is sick and pukey. He got Cinnamon (a spring horse) and a wheel barrow. Anne will be here soon. Caroline is mad at me because I don't change light bulbs. It was a good Christmas. Looking forward to the new job. 'Woody A Buzz' [characters in the film Toy Story]-Anton's favorite expression." As mundane or random as these details seem, for me they recall a very special Christmas. At the time, Oliver was back in school pursuing a second degree. He was working two part-time jobs as well as helping out on my parent's farm, where we lived in a mobile home. We had our son, Anton, and I was seven months pregnant, and thoroughly miserable and impossible. Money was tight, to say the least. We had agreed not to buy presents for each other, but to use what we had to buy gifts for Anton. My father says it doesn't matter what you get a child for a gift, they're more likely to play with the wrapping paper and the box anyway. But, we were new parents, and we wanted Christmas to be special for our little man. So we scrimped together all we could and went to Toy Land at Farm and Fleet. Oliver wanted to buy a kid size wheelbarrow for Anton, because he liked to help his dad clean the horses' stalls, and I wanted to find a really special toy. There, we quickly located a small, orange wheelbarrow, and then I spied Cinnamon. Cinnamon was an old fashioned spring horse. He was buckskin with a long, lush black mane and tail. His western saddle and bridle where elaborately decorated, and he was solidly built. I could just see my son blissfully bouncing on him. I turned to Oliver. "Do you think, we can do it?" Cautiously, he checked the price. "Yeah. We can do it. We can't get much else. But this is well made and will last." Triumphantly, we purchased Cinnamon, who came disassembled in a long, flat box, and loaded him up in the car. With family in town and so many holiday activities, we made the fatal mistake of not assembling Cinnamon until late Christmas Eve. We were both tired when we opened up the box, and found five pages of directions, bolts, screws, and other miscellaneous parts. We worked on Cinnamon for a good hour before it dawned on me that it appeared we were short two metal poles. "Did you check the box?" Oliver asked. "Of course! They're not here." "Did you check with those other metal pieces for the base?" "They're not there! This is awful! He's going to get a wheelbarrow for Christmas," I wailed. Then, I burst into tears. Oliver consoled me as best he could. He pointed out Anton would be thrilled with the candy and little treats in his stocking, and that he would love the wheelbarrow. But, seven months pregnant and emotionally volatile, I was beside myself. I wanted Christmas to be so special for Anton. But what could we do at this point? Most stores were closed, I know because I called around. Anton would be up early, so there was seemingly nothing that could be accomplished on the following morning. I went to bed sad and disappointed. Why hadn't we built Cinnamon before that night? I had been after Oliver to do it for weeks. When Anton and I awoke that morning, he rushed out to the living room where the Christmas tree stood. I came more slowly, but with a determined smile on my face. I was disappointed with the Cinnamon fiasco, but I was going to make the best of it for my family. To my amazement there were several small, wrapped packages at the base of our tree. Anton euphorically ripped them open to reveal a small Buzz Lightyear figure, a plastic dinosaur, a little semi truck that was remote controlled, and a tube of tennis balls. Anton was ecstatic. In his assessment, Santa had come through in a big way. He particularly liked pouring the tennis balls out of the plastic tube and then putting them back in. While he examined his new toys delightedly, I glanced in amazement at Oliver. He winked at me. He'd slipped out of the house into subzero temperatures at around four that morning and gone to Walgreen's Pharmacy, the one place open all night on Christmas Eve. There, he had purchased the ten dollars or so worth of convenience store toys that had so enchanted our son. It was only later in the morning that Anton noticed half assembled Cinnamon. He lifted up the rubber banded together, long, flat, metal pieces that were to form the base, and the missing poles slid out. They had been there all along! I was chagrined, but Oliver just laughed. Christmas had been too much of a success for him to be irritated about his early morning quest for toys. We still have Cinnamon. He occupies a prominent position in our basement, never leaving his spot even when other toys are rotated in and out. He's covered in green marker streaks, and his mane and tail are thin and bedraggled, but the kids still ride him, play with him, and build forts with him. To me, he serves as a reminder of the Christmas spirit, the spirit of loving and giving, year round. He also evokes a twinge of embarrassment in me when I consider my own theatrics about not having "enough" to give my son, when so many other families have so much less. What made that Christmas so special was not the gifts under the tree but the efforts to which Oliver went to ensure Anton and I had a happy day. I recall a story about a sermon delivered to children about month after Christmas. The minister asked the children what they got for Christmas. Few could answer immediately. Most were already taking for granted the gifts which had given them such joy on Christmas Day. But what many had not forgotten, and what most already looked forward to was that special Christmas feeling that transcends material gifts. My husband's Christmas notes and Cinnamon remind me of the true meaning of the season as well as reaffirm to me how blessed I am in my husband. Caroline Akervik is a freelance writer whose humorous reflections on family life have been published in both print publications and on e-zines. Her romantic suspense novel, Calypso’s Secret, written under the pen name Isabelle Kane, will be released by Whiskey Creek Press in May of 2005. Look for more of her work at www.isabellekane.com. |
JustForMom Privacy & Ordering Policies © 2002 - 2010 Just For Mom, All Rights Reserved Site Designed By Apex Internet Systems, Inc. |