You Can Count on Me

"Do you know where you're going?" Heidi's dad asked me from the passenger seat as I backed out of the driveway, bound for our 7PM Christmas Eve dinner reservation. Our party of six was too large for one car, so Heidi, Gary, and I were in our station wagon.

"I think so," I said confidently. "It's the first exit after you get on the Thruway, right?"

On the way we chatted about what we were going to order for dinner, how we were going to get to the airport in the morning, and football team standings going into the last week of the regular season. The conversation was moving to spring and summer travel plans as I rolled through the EZ-Pass lane and headed east.

"That's your exit!" Gary told me, but it was too late. It had come up way before I expected it, and I didn't get over in time.

"I guess I'll have to get off at the next one and turn around," I sighed. But then it occurred to me that it was the Thruway... "Is it a long way?"

"Yep," he said.

The car fell silent. Heidi pulled out her phone and punched in the address. It was 15 miles to the next exit. "You better call your mother," Gary said to Heidi, "and put on some Edyie Gorme!"

Sleigh Ride, Sleigh Ride! Recorded laughter and jingle bells blared through the speakers. I hit the gas, and our station wagon rocketed down the highway and into the night.

Stille Nacht

The night was silent and still when I took Lucy out to potty before the Uber picked us up for our 4:30 am ride to the airport. After just a few hours of sleep, the scene on the suburban street seemed more dreamlike than real to me. Tiny snowflakes fell noiselessly and my eye was drawn to the glow of Christmas lights shining through a few windows down the street. I breathed deeply of the cold night air, willing myself to wake, and just then, a trio of shadows detached from the neighbor's hedges and glided across the grass. Three full-grown whitetail deer paused under the street light and turned their eyes our way, alert to the oblivious dog by my side, but seemingly oblivious to the ornamental versions of themselves a few feet away. The deer blew soft, frozen clouds into the winter night, and then, glittering stars above, iron earth below, turned and bounded down the street and into the silent darkness.

Christmas Eve Tales

I.

Fat snowflakes of the kind that you could imagine sticking to your nose and eyelashes drifted from the morning sky. In a blink the flurries thickened into a blinding swirl and the grass was covered, giving us the hope of a white Christmas even against the prevailing forecast. The beauty of the scene was transfixing, and then, before my coffee cup was empty and I could open the backdoor to let Lucy play in the snow, it was gone.


II.

I settled in the easy chair at the nail salon and tucked my toes under the drying light. A little girl of perhaps six sat to my left, wiggling her fingers. They were painted in alternating sparkles of red and green. "You're nails are beautiful!" I said.

She pulled her feet out and showed me that her toes matched.

I gave her a thumbs up. "Does your family celebrate Christmas?" I asked.

Her eyes widened and she nodded vigorously. "We celebrate ALL the holidays!" she told me, seriously. "We're a fun family!"

III.

Late in the day, tiny snow flakes, so small you could barely see them, began falling. It took hours for a crisp layer to dust the grass, and then the clouds literally parted, revealing the sun for the first time in days. Long rays and shadows painted the snow gold and purple as the day ended and the eve began.

That Road Before Us

No sleigh bells ring ting tingled, but the seat warmers were on high, so we were comfy cozy as we turned our station wagon toward Niagara Falls this morning. It had been another leaden dawn, but the falls were emerald against the gray sky, and a glittering layer of ice encased all the bushes and grass on the banks by the rapids. We leaned into the cold, following a path past the places we knew from summer visits and to the foot of the pedestrian entrance for the Rainbow Bridge. Had we had our passports it would have become an international adventure, but instead we promised ourselves we'd be back in warmer days when the chill breeze off the river would be welcome on our walk to Canada.

That Holiday Feeling

The neon lights of the Aurora Theatre marquis glowed brightly against the late December gloom, and across the street the red and white striped awning of Vidlers 5&10 cheerfully capped the busy sidewalk. The windows of McDuffies Bakery and Beulah's General Store were decked in ribbon and evergreen, their holiday treasures visible within. Tiny pellets of snow rattled against the last of the dry leaves in the trees, and a frigid wind tingled my cheeks as I dashed down Main Street, shopping bags swinging along by my side, anxious for the warmth of my waiting car, but in no hurry to leave this jolly village behind.

Dark and Stormy Night

We finally turned the car toward Buffalo a little after 3 yesterday afternoon. A steady rain was falling, the sky was heavy and so was the traffic. It took us 90 minutes to go 30 miles, but I kept a white-knuckled grip on both the steering wheel and my holiday cheer.

The storm was tracking from the south, and steady rain and scattered fog was with us all the way. Fortunately it stayed a couple degrees above freezing, even in the Pennsylvania mountains, and traffic then was understandably very sparse. For miles at a time, our hi-beams were the only illumination on the dark, wet road.

Except for the Christmas lights! From Virginia to New York, up mountains, across valleys, in towns, on country roads, and off the side of  the interstate, they shined through the storm on the second longest night of the year.

And we arrived safely a little after midnight.

Not Quite There

Our plan was to leave by noon and run a couple of errands on the way. That way we would reach Buffalo in time for a late dinner.

Um...