A Christmas Yet to Come TaleBy Benjamin Rogaczewski

As you no doubt read from the title, you’re about to read a holiday tale. Now I don’t want you to think that there’s any old miser in this story, or a dark hooded figure with bony fingers silently pointing this way and that. No there’s nothing like that in this story. Only love. And I mean tons of love. Like Nicholas Sparks eating dinner with Norah Roberts, whilst being waited on by Janet Evanovich romantic love. Let’s just say that if you do not “squee” with awe by the end of this tale, I would not have done my job. However, let us start from the beginning…“Marley was dead to begin with and…” just kidding.

Instead we come to a little two-story house in one of those quiet burbs of Boston. These were the kind of burbs that have a neighborhood watch and a dog in every home. Some of these homes had a child or numerous children, but not our particular home. No, this home did not have the noise of pitter-pattering little feet, nor the teeny little socks to cover them. However, the woman who lived in this house with her husband of four years was not against the idea of having children, but her experience in early childhood taught her to be patient when discussing the idea of children. The couple, now in their early thirties, had spent so much time in their second lives of Academia that they lost track of having children. Now that their lives as academics were beginning to calm down and settle, the sound of stork wings on the wind could be heard, with a little Artemis and Apollo in the cards. But that is not this story.

The day was Christmas Eve, and the house was warm with the spices of Christmas cooking. The young woman was a master of bakery, along with her husband, and ever since her final grades had been completed. Her students still sent her emails about their grades, mostly positive emails, but there were some Grinchs in the mix. However, she was not checking her email on her silver Macbook Pro at all today or tomorrow. Today was a day of relaxation and comfort.

There was a small cat curled up on the couch. She was a grey tabby with a long white stripe down her back. The woman had had her for years, rescued from the Milwaukee Humane Society. A medium sized Jack Russell terrier sat next to her, his forlorn eyes looking up at the woman baking sugar cookies. He gave a high-pitched whine, followed by a small whimper.

“I know, Pongo. I miss him too.” The woman found her mind wandering a bit, now worried about her husband. He was supposed to be away for a few days for a conference at Georgetown. He was giving his memorial paper on Julian the Apostate, written years ago during his Masters track. She would have gone to see him, but one of her advisees was giving a paper at Boston College. Coincidentally, this year had the most collegiate conferences on the East coast in ten

years, and unfortunately or fortunately, the young woman and man were caught in the middle of it. However, there was a huge snowstorm that hit while he was away, grounding all planes till the 26th of December. It would be their first Christmas apart.

To keep her mind from thinking about it, the young woman grabbed the TV remote from the kitchen counter and pressed the power button. An electric current ran through the machine and the screen came to life. The once black screen now displayed a middle-aged brunette woman at a desk. She was discussing airline and train delays plaguing the east coast. What meteorologists had recently named winter storm Methuselah, as if to give an ironic appellation to “old man winter,” was ravaging every major eastern city, from Charleston to Providence, and ruining every holiday plan. Stranded family members were stuck, away from their loved ones, marooned by the swirling icicles and snowballs from the heavens. The woman at the desk cut away to a balding man in front of a green screen displaying Methuselah in all its definitive glory. It did not look like it would let up until after Christmas, when the carols would cease on the radio waves.

The young woman pressed the power button once again. It would seem as hard as she would try, she would not be free from her worried thoughts of her husband, the stranded academic in Washington D.C.

A young man held his glasses to his face. The wind and snow glistened upon his metal rims, fogging the lenses when he blew hot air into his hands. The winter storm raging throughout the east coast had closed all the buildings at Georgetown. The conference he was attending, one on religious reform in Late Antiquity, was significantly delayed, with numerous presenting scholars cancelling their flight plans, train tickets, and hotel reservations. The young man was one of a handful of those who had made it to Washington D.C. before Methuselah had struck. He was visiting his brother, sister-in-law, and their son, for the holidays, before the storm hit. Now he was stranded, trying to get home for the holidays. He longed to see his wife for the holidays, and hold her close.

His only solace at this moment was the freedom he enjoyed being outside. With the storm closing down the buildings on campus, the young professor also found that his exit was prohibited, apparently for his own safety. However, he caught a lucky break. The officer on campus safety holding the theatre hall was a historian and an avid fan of the professor. After a long discussion with the young officer, a signed copy of the professor’s latest book, and the proposition of continued email correspondence, the professor found his exit from the building and entry into the zero visibility of Methuselah. He had to look around for the next step and found it at the nearby cafeteria.

A semi was delivering its goods in this storm, completely unheard of to everyone, but not to those drivers who needed to fulfill their weekly hours. You see each driver needs to fulfill a quota of hours or they do not make a full paycheck. Money seemed a necessity, it being the holiday season. With all that in mind, the young man was not completely shocked at the sight of the delivering truck. With a spark of confidence, the young man trudged through the snow. Upon reaching the semi, the young man speaks with the driver and after much talk, and the wonderful gift of providence that this driver was headed back to Providence; the young professor was loaded up into the semi. Soon he was on his way to Boston, calmed down enough to rest in the truck. It would be several hours before he would be at his destination, and now he needed some sleep. Carefully he propped himself against the wall of the carriage, closing his eyes and gently falling asleep.

The young woman put her cookie sheet, now covered with a number of sugar cookies dressed in jimmies, into the oven. After closing the oven door and setting the timer, she found her gaze drawn upon a picture of her and her husband on the fridge. His hair was short, the normal length during the spring and summer, and it was a light brown, the same colored he had when she first met him. She had not changed much as well. Still young and vibrant. The picture was from one of their many trips to Italy. She could remember the heat on her face and warm smell of home comforts. The wine was phenomenal, and expressed the very history embedded in the grape. She longed for that warmth again, but now she only longed for her beloved husband.

The young woman moved to the couch, sitting herself next to the curled up feline and the whimpering terrier. She ran her fingers along the cat’s back, rubbing its soft hairs. The terrier’s head popped up and stared at the young woman. He gives a jealous bark.

“Pongo, I have not forgotten about you.” The woman draws her hand over the terrier and scratches his back and chin. He shows his appreciation by arching his neck and gently licking her fingers. It’s a small action, but provides an incredible amount of comfort. Then the young woman heard a vehicle screech outside. The cat and dog jerked their heads instantly towards the front door. The terrier began to bark, intermittently at first and then constant. The woman jolted up from the couch and moved towards the door, and looked out the front window. What she saw was astounding.

Parked on the street was a large semi truck, flashing its caution lights. It was hard to make out why it was parked in front of their house due to the swirling snow. The young woman could only think of one possibility. She turned back to the barking dog and concerned cat.

“I’m not expecting a package, so why the heck is a truck parked outside?” Again she turned to the window, and cupping her hands near her eyes she tried to make out what was happening. It was still far too difficult to make out what was going on outside, but it looked like there were two blurry figures near the back of the truck. The snow began to cover them and soon they disappeared. The truck revved its engine and was soon on its way. The woman’s mind was racing. What had she just witnessed? Why was a truck randomly parked outside her home? But before she could consider all the possibilities, there was a hard knock at the door. The woman jumped at the noise, but slowly began to move towards the front door. Knock. Knock. Knock. The rapping was now more excited as if the person on the other side of the door earnestly wished to enter her home. As the young woman reached for the door knob, the knock began to get louder, and as she turned the knob, she could feel the reverberations of the door run up her arm. She quickly turned the knob and opened the door. The terrier perked up his head and ran for the door.

There standing in the doorway was the young professor, the young woman’s husband, covered from head to foot in snow. His glasses were completely covered and fogged up, his hair matted down with snow and sleet. His ears were covered by ear muffs, but his cheeks displayed a deep red blush, not from embarrassment mind you, but of the terrible chill.

“This has got to be the best package you have ever received for Christmas I imagine,” he said with a glowing smile stretching across his face.

The woman was completely surprised by her husband, and rushed him, wrapping her arms about him and kissing him hard on the lips. Yes she was excited to see him, but she was also testing to see if it was really he standing in front of her, or was she simply seeing an icy illusion before her. It was real. He was real. And as she held onto him, not letting him go, she could hear him whisper in her ear

“Merry Christmas babe. I love you immensely.”Her heart melted at the soft words and she ushered him through

the door to warm up. The terrier rushed to his master, barking excitedly at the thought of being held in his arms.

“Hey Pongo! Did you miss me boy?” The terrier replied with a loud bark. As the young man shook off his coat and things, he looked at everyone. “You guys will never believe how I got here.”

Here is to hoping that you have a miraculous and wonderful Christmas!!!