Kyle's Christmas

KYLE’S CHRISTMAS

 Kyle slammed the car door and balanced a pile of gifts in his arms. He walked carefully up the snow-covered walkway. That’s strange, he thought. Dad was usually on top of chores like that. But Dad was getting older now and since his little stroke a few months ago he was a lot more fragile than he had been. I really should come by more often and do more things for the folks, thought Kyle. He was only across town, a ten or fifteen-minute drive at best and Mum had fallen last week on the ice.  She had hit her head but luckily hadn't broken any bones. Kyle resolved to be more attentive. He opened the front door of his parent’s house.

“Merry Christmas!” he called out. The first floor of the house was in darkness. “Mum? Dad?” 

He kicked off his boots and placed the presents on the entryway table. Walking across the foyer, he noticed the Christmas tree in the corner of the family room—beautifully decorated as always… but unlit.  The Christmas tree skirt that covered the floor under the tree was empty, denuded of any signs of gifts. He crossed the room quickly and entered the dining room; it too, was in darkness. He flicked on the lights, the sturdy oak table was unadorned except for a pristine white linen tablecloth and the tall silver candlesticks that habitually sat near the centre of the table. They were now trimmed with bright crimson berries albeit without the flaming candles that usually accompanied Christmas dinner. Where was the fine china, the crystal stemware, the silver cutlery, the gaily festooned decor that Mum was so proud of? He headed into the kitchen, through the swinging doors. He breathed in deeply through his nose, hoping to catch the aroma of baked ham, succulent turkey, vegetables, and all the other traditional Christmas fixings that usually accompany Christmas dinner for his family.

The room was empty of meal preparations. He glanced at the clock which read 5:02. He was right on schedule. What was going on?

Kyle ran to the staircase and rushed up the stairs. “Mum! Dad! Are you okay?” Their bedroom door was open and he gave a temporary sigh of relief when he saw the empty bed. He had wild visions as he rushed up the stairs, afraid of what he might find. He crossed the room to check the far side of the bed, got down on his knees, and looked under it. Not that Dad would have ever fit under it but still…

Rushing to the double-wide closet, he opened it wide, revealing neatly hung clothes and a shoe rack with all the shoes neatly in their place. The ensuite was empty as well, he even pulled back the shower curtain to take a peak.  He ran down the hall to the other upstairs washroom and checked it out as well. With his heart pounding in his chest, he ran to his old bedroom, which still looked pretty much the way it had when he was a kid. There was his single bed with a buffalo plaid blanket, and his small desk in the corner. His posters of the top sports athletes mixed with his collection of hot pop singers had been taken down as well as the small basketball hoop and his Nerf ball, but other than that it was a quick trip down memory lane. 

He checked under the bed and in the closet which was filled with clear totes; he could see the stacks of sports trophies that he had no more interest in but meant the world to his parents. Totes with legos, assorted building blocks, and childish stuffies sat staring at him through the clear plastic. It was like his parents just could not wait to become grandparents. Good luck with that he thought ruefully.

 He headed to the spare room, slash office, slash sewing room. There was a big roll-top desk, a rolling banker’s chair, and a sewing machine set up on a folding table. A closet filled with odds and ends, items that might someday become useful.

 He checked the linen closet then retreated down the stairs and checked the front hall closet, the pantry, the laundry room, and the living room. The fireplace mantle was festooned with garlands,  ribbons, and pinecones. Three Christmas stockings hung in front of the empty fireplace. No cheery crackling fire filled the room, the stockings marked Mum, Dad, and Kyle hung limp and empty. Other than that, nothing seemed suspicious or out of place.  After checking the basement Kyle headed out to the back porch and slipped on an old pair of his Dad’s boots left by the back door, he descended the few steps to check out the backyard and the shed.

The shed was his father's domain and it took a little more effort to explore. An ice pick and heavy-duty ice scraper were leaning haphazardly against the shed. Kyle picked up his Dad’s toolbox that was lying half-buried in the snow. Kyle was getting very anxious by now. Something wasn’t right, something was definitely off. He opened the shed door and flung several tarps to one side, checking under them his heart beating wildly in his chest.  They were covering an old generator and the lawnmower. He even checked an old freezer chest that had seen better days but his dad insisted on keeping it.  Dad always thought that If he kept precious things in the freezer, the mice would not be able to get in it. The freezer was filled with grass seed, potting soil, and gardening paraphernalia.

Kyle stood by the doorway grasping the door frame of the shed with both hands.  There was only one more place to look on the property. The garage. 

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he headed towards it. He stood outside the garage door, one hand covering his mouth and the other covering his heart. He took a few deep breaths then slowly, his hand trembling, he reached out and grasped the door knob.

He opened the door and peeked inside. He sighed heavily in relief. There in front of the workbench stood his parents, both dressed in their pajamas and wearing a light jacket.

His parents turned at the sound of the door opening, a curious expression on their faces.

“What are you doing here today Kyle? We weren’t expecting you till tomorrow at this time.”

“Ah, you did ask me to come for Christmas dinner,” he replied.

“Yes, but that's tomorrow. Were you able to get away from work early?”

“No Mom,” he said evenly. “Today is Christmas.”

“That can't be,” said his Dad. “We haven't even stuffed the turkey yet, or made the dessert.”

“Or put the presents under the tree or fill the stockings. I mean, Santa hasn't filled the stockings,” his Mum corrected.”

“Trust me,” said Kyle. “Today is Christmas.”

“Silly me,” said Mum. “I thought it was tomorrow.” 

Dad nodded in agreement. “We haven't even finished building your present yet. We wanted to surprise you.” He stepped away from the workbench, and with a beaming face, revealed a train set and miniature village.

Kyle smiled weakly and gazed at the train set that he would have adored… fifteen years ago.

“That's a … wonderful surprise, Mum and Dad. Thank you.”

“ Well no matter what day it is. You can stay in your old room and we will have Christmas tomorrow,” suggested his Dad.

 “Don’t forget to put cookies and milk out for Santa and his reindeer. But no getting up early and going downstairs and peeking in your stockings.”

 Kyle pasted a bright cheerful smile on his face, and his heart filled with love. Love and a growing fear for his aging parents. “Just as you say Mum, I promise I will stay in my bed till after Santa arrives.”