Christmas 1983.
In a land long and time long before VST. Another kind of First Christmas. Lonely. Scared to death. Newly divorcing. Mother of two small boys, aged 3 and 5. Working swing shift at a winery. (3:30 – 11:30pm). Did I mention two small kiddos? Worried. Penniless. Yet, timidly optimistic, in the most beautiful way. Purely knowing everything was better than it had been in years, and would continue to be better every single day. Because, there are many things worse than being alone.
The boys had been restless all day. The Older already knew about Santa and what would happen soon. The Younger was just aboard for the ride. I had exhausted all the normal activities for the two of them, and had one last thing planned on this my day off. In the next town over, just 30 miles South, there was a magical street that went on for miles, or so my silly memory told me. Christmas Tree Lane. I had just enough gas in the car to get there, back, and to work the next day. My wallet told me I couldn’t fill gas for two more days, but this would be worth it. The boys needed this bit of magic, and so did I.
I had returned the empty soda bottles, collecting change enough to treat us to McDonald’s hamburgers, as an added surprise. They were going to have the best night ever and think I had lost my mind!! Sadness and anger had their talons sunk deep into my neck. At times, I didn’t know if I would find my next breath. Mother. Father. Breadwinner. Funmaker. Maid. Gardener. The list went on. With the demands real and overwhelming, seldom was there time for self assessment. It was just that way.
Thankfully, the ride South was always fun for the boys. They were aware of everything around them, this being before the advent of phones or DVD’s. I Spy was a fun game to play with them on the road, amidst their precious squeals as a semi-truck would pass us. The Older soon learned to give the truck drivers a signal for a honk, as he set his giggles free when it worked. The Younger would always fall asleep in his car seat, the motion carrying him to his dreams.
McDonald’s was a rare treat. Again, no jungle gyms or running willy-nilly. We sat together and shared hamburgers and fries. All smiles. Again, a game of I Spy helped pass the time. The Older was curious.
“What’s next, Mommy?”
What WAS next for me? At that moment in time, there was no reason I should believe I would get a NEXT. Just more of the same.
“A SURPRISE!!!” More delight from these two little humans I loved more than the moon and the stars. I loved more than me.
As quick as a cricket, we were back in our blue Toyota station wagon, and in search of Shields Avenue. I had grown up in on a farm outside this town and had done this very thing many times in my own childhood. I was pretty sure the street I needed was Shields Avenue. The sun was going to bed, and the Younger was yawning as we rolled along.
“Hang on, Buddy. We are almost to our SURPRISE!” His eyelids had closed as he catnapped, happy and full. The Older’s eyes darted back and forth, taking in the sights of a new place.
The sun was now down, a veil of light still hanging in winter air. On Shields Avenue, we were creeping down the street. At this point I was sure that I was on the right street, but then again, not. Growing up in the country, just driving to see the town lights was always so exciting and beautiful. I realized now, many trips to town to see the night lights had been my own parent’s ways of stretching their dollars when there were not many left to stretch.
Cars lined the One Way street on both sides, bumper to bumper, in total darkness now. I was so disappointed that I had obviously missed the street altogether. I would need ask CC which street I was supposed to take. She and I were 5 year friends by then. The kids were restless now, and it would be best to head back home for bath and story time. The best part of our very long days.
Coming to a 4-way stop. It happened. Just like that. For us. The first car of the night.
“Mama!!!!!!!!” , the Older gasped, waking the Younger. I couldn’t speak, as tears welled up in my eyes. There were no words.
For one block, the most beautiful lights magically appeared. On both sides of the road, the massive pines were laced with lights to their tippy tops. Lights carefully hung in the most beautiful patterns on trees that were way older than I was. At each intersection, lights crossed the road high above our car. Houses on the sides of the streets lit up. Everything at once. One block of magic. Lawn scenes had taken hours and hours of preparation. Elves, Santas, Reindeer, Sleighs. On the roofs. In the grass. Shining from behind windows of quaint little houses. This was a street in which everyone was involved. Period.
Both my babes were shrieking, never having seen such beauty in their short lives. All I could do was roll on. Sad that this beauty was only found on one block in life. But, how wonderful we were to be Car #1 on this chilly night.
As I approached the next 4-way stop, the next block lit before us, and it was tears and shrieking all over again. Even more beauty. Sparkling. Surreal. Animated scenes, one more fantastical than the last. From total darkness to wonderland. It made sense now! The cars on the sides of the road had been waiting to cheat the lines. Here I was, muddling along, lucky enough to be the first of the night. I rolled down my window to hear Christmas Carols playing softly throughout the treetops. I had needed this as much as the kids.
Block after block, it was the same scenario. I would get to the intersection and another section of lights would appear. In my memory, it went on for at least 20 miles. In reality, by the 3rd block, the remainder of the Lane was lit, lasting 5 blocks in total. In my mind, I was a girl again, coming to town with Mom and Dad to see the magic of lights in the night. In reality, I was a very sad, tired, broke, really great mom enjoying a magical moment with my boys.
At the end, when the final turn would lead us back home, there stood Santa. By this time, Older and Younger could barely contain themselves. Smiling, as all Santa’s do, he gave us three candy canes. His eyes said, “Believe. Everything is going to be okay. It already is. Look behind you.”
Because it was the only song they knew so far, we sang Jingle Bells on the way home. Until it was just the Older and Me. And finally, just me, as they slept.
Santa was so right. For all the things I didn’t have, I had everything I needed in my two boys. I was safe now. And, now, I would keep them safe. There WERE worse things than being alone. I had spent 6 years in a situation that bad. This first Christmas FREE was the beginning of our new journey towards happiness. Optimistically joyful, we were home.
For Older and Younger. I love you to the moon and back. Mom