The Most Silent Night

Holly wreaths and red bows swam around in a blurry sea in front of me. I sniffled as a stray tear dropped onto the wrapping paper I had just taped down. I put the gift aside and looked around the room for another to wrap. I could hear the faint sound of my mom’s television in the next room. Late night television held limited options, but I’m pretty sure she wasn’t paying much attention to it anyway. It was 2:03am. Christmas Eve. About six hours since Dad went into the operating room. We hadn’t yet told my sister, out of town with her in-laws. What could she do anyway but worry? She knew he wasn’t feeling well this week, but didn’t know it came to this. 

A trip to the ER, and emergency surgery. 

I heard the sound of feet shuffling down the wooden floor of the hallway. My mom peeked her head in the room. 

“Almost done?” 

I know she meant wrapping the Santa gifts for the kids, but I think she also meant the surgery. Why hadn’t they called yet? It shouldn’t take this long. 

“Yep. Just a few more.” I said with a forced smile. 

“Do you think they’ll call soon? It’s so late. Why is it taking this long?” My mom said as she absently put her hands in her robe pockets. 

“I’m sure everything is fine. They said it was complicated, so it’s probably just taking longer than expected. They’ll call soon.” 

“I’m sure you’re right,” my mom softly said as she made her way back to her room. 

I sat on the bed in my parent’s spare room, and glanced out the window into the darkness. I thought back to Christmases growing up, in a different house and different time. 

***

     Chocolate chip cookies. That’s what sat heavy in my belly as I lay on my back, head under the Christmas tree as it slowly turned around. I was 9, and had spent many an evening like that growing up. Watching the lights move past like shooting stars in slow motion from under the tree. The tree stand had a little motor and each year, our tree spun dizzily in the living room. There was a Christmas record playing in the dining room, and I whisper-sang along to Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton dueting “A Christmas to Remember”. I had folded a teeny piece of paper and lodged it next to the power button to keep it on, otherwise it wouldn’t stay pressed in. A trick my dad thought of. Back then, we didn’t buy new things if something went wrong; my dad always found a way to fix them, even if temporarily. 

He had been working that day, came home, and was off again somewhere. Maybe the grocery store? Mom was cleaning in the kitchen, then went upstairs to put away laundry. My sister was on the phone in her room. 

I rolled over to my side and looked at the Nativity that sat under the tree. I traced at the rough brown mossy pieces glued to the sloping roof with my fingers. Jesus didn’t look like a baby in our Nativity, but a tiny adult with outstretched hands in a little plastic straw bed.  Sort of unsettling. Mary’s paint was imprecise and the blue from her dress washed into her face and cheeks. Joseph was surprisingly presentable. 

Christmas was coming, and a warm excitement filled me like strings of colorful lights wrapped around my veins all throughout my body. It was my absolute favorite time of year. Christmas Eve would mean dinner at my Grandmother’s house. The smell of various fishes cooked various ways heavy in the air like a seafood fog. And my favorite, the mushrooms. I have no idea how my uncle made them, but I looked forward to them each year. I tried to replicate them a few times, failing each. Mushrooms and soy sauce? Wine? It took a magic to make those mushrooms, and I never quite figured out the spell. 

Then a noise outside had gotten my attention and I rolled out from under the tree. I looked out the large bay window in the front of my house and saw my dad's car pulled into the driveway. He was home from wherever he’d been. I slid onto the couch and grabbed my book from the table. 

I had just turned the page when the front door opened. I looked up and saw my dad walking into the foyer, a huge smile on his face. A smile that said he’d been up to something. 

“Hey dad!” I said and put my book aside. He was walking in slowly, looking around, and holding his coat. This was an odd entrance. 

“Hey sweetheart!” He said as he decided to come into the living room. 

He didn’t sit down, just stood there smiling, fidgeting with his coat. Then I thought I heard a soft sound from somewhere. What was that? I heard it again. A high pitched cry like a baby cooing. I looked at my dad, puzzled. 

Then he opened his coat slowly, and from inside the pocket he pulled out the smallest fluffy ball of mewing fur. 

“A kitten! You have a kitten!” I squealed. 

“Shh! I didn’t tell your mother!” he replied, glancing over his shoulder to see if my mom heard and was coming. 

“You have a secret kitten! What’s her name? I love her! Is it a girl? It looks like a girl!” I said and took the warm fluff into my arms. She mewed again as I snuggled my face into her brown and black fur. She was the tiniest kitten I’d ever seen. 

“Yes, she’s a girl. And she’s a runt. Smallest kitten in her litter. When I saw her I knew she had to come home with me. Nearly tore apart my car on the way here! She’s a feisty runt!” he said. 

“She’s just perfect! I love her,” I said as she squirmed out of my arms and darted like a mini cheetah over to the front window. She looked back at us, looking at her, and leaped into the sheer white curtains that adorned the window. She used her claws to scale all the way to the top, then sat on the curtain rod inches from the ceiling, looking down on us with beautiful mischievous yellow eyes. 

My dad and I looked at each other and laughed. 

“What should we call her?” he asked. 

“Since it’s almost Christmas, let’s call her Holly.”

And then Holly swung over the curtain rod, dug in her claws, and slid down the curtain shredding it as she descended to the floor. I gasped. Dad laughed. Holly ran. 

“Holly Claws!” My dad laughed and showed me his arms, scratched up from his ride home with her. 

I looked at the shredded curtains and thought about the look my mom’s face would have when she saw the destruction and the secret kitten. As I smiled at the thought and the curtains, something caught my eye in the window. Snow. It had just started to snow. A soft, quiet, slowly falling snow. 

My heart was full, happy, content. 

***

I was brought back to my parent’s spare room with the sound of my mom’s cell ringing. I heard her answer, saying “Hello? Yes, this is she…”

It must be the hospital. I looked at my phone. It was 6:08am. I still hadn’t slept. Neither of us had. I wondered what this call would mean for this Christmas. They say miracles can happen at Christmas. I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to hear my mom’s conversation, but it was silent. 

I opened my eyes, and looked to the window. It had just started to snow. A soft, quiet, slowly falling snow. 

My heart was full, happy, content. I smiled. And I knew.