Note: This is the second post in an ongoing fictional series about the holidays and The Cavanaugh Family.
It was 1901 and Christmastime. I was all of thirteen years old and my sister, little Gracie, was going to be six at the turn of the year. It was our first Christmas without Ma as she died the previous January from Scarlet fever. The town doctor came out to our cabin once a week to check on Ma but there wasn't much he could do for her with what he didn't have. The doctor told Pa we should take Ma to the city but Pa said he could take care of her. Looking back, I know Pa blamed himself for Ma's early demise but really he did the best he could. For many years later on, I blamed God.
Yes'm, it was a bad start to the year. Because of the fear of catching the fever, we had to burn everything in our cabin that could hide the illness. All our linens; clothes, blankets -even that big bear rug -were cast to ashes. When all was done we were living in a shell of a cabin with only the pot-belly stove, some pots and pans and a few dishes. I think when Ma saw what we did to avoid the fever -at her expense no less -she died from a broken heart. After Ma passed the local folk kept bringing us new clothes and bedding from the mercantile in town. Pa accepted them as graciously as he could by forcing himself to swallow his pride. By summertime we had more clothes than we knew what to do with; the town folk knew Gracie and I were growing and they brought us clothes that were a few sizes too big for us, so that we could grow into them.
Anyway, it was the day before Christmas and snow had fallen all afternoon. Pa had rode our horse into town, only telling Gracie and me that he would be back by nightfall. It was the first year we had no tree to decorate. I supposed the tradition of going with Pa into the woods to cut down a tree for the holiday died with Ma. Heck, even if we had a tree we had nothin' to put on it.
Gracie and I bundled ourselves up and played in the snow. We started building snowmen in front of the cabin. Now I don't remember actually planning for our labors to become a snow-family, but that's what happened. The largest snowman was of course Pa, decorated with his favorite hunting hat and holding his Winchester rifle that I had taken down from the hearth. Gracie built her snow-girl in the likeness of herself, complete with a new bonnet that Gracie herself hadn't even worn yet. I built myself in snow, my favorite knit hat and flannel shirt adorning the flakes. Gracie and I made Ma last. One of her twig-arms was holding a kettle while her other twig-arm held our only family photograph... next to her heart. We braided some pine switches together and made a halo for the top of her head.
I was about to heat up some rabbit stew when Pa came in the door. Without saying a word he pulled up three of the kitchen chairs and faced them out the front window of the cabin. Gracie and I sat on each side of Pa and with his arms around us we stared at the silhouette of our snow-family twinkling in the moonlight. I'm not sure how long we sat there but it seemed like most of the night. I knew it best not to look at Pa but I could hear him sniffle every now and then. Gracie fell asleep and Pa carried her to bed while I heated the stew, awaiting our silent dinner.
When morning came I woke Gracie and told her -for Pa's sake -not to be upset if Santa hadn't seen our snow-family and had passed us by. We came down from the loft and saw the same room we left the night before. Gracie looked at me with pathetic eyes and I shook my head in sympathy. Gracie then looked beyond me and out the front window. Her eyes lit up and her frown turned to a beaming smile. I turned and looked out the window. My snowman was holding a brand new Remington .22 caliber rifle and in front of Gracie's was a red wagon with a sled atop it. Ma's twig-arms were no longer holding the kettle and photograph. No, her twig-arms were now lower and touching Gracie's bonnet and my flannel shirt.
Gracie let out a little scream of joy and ran into the bedroom where Pa was sleeping. The scream woke Pa but he was still half aslumber.
"Santa came Pa! Santa came!" Gracie shouted.
"Did he now?" Pa said while wiping his face awake, "Well let's go see what he brought."
Pa stood up from the bed in his long-johns and winked at me as he trailed Gracie into the front room.
With a smile on my face I turned to follow Pa... but not before seeing the corner of our only family photograph tucked beneath his pillow.
FiN.
