Timeless

All we have to do is decide what to do with the time that is given us.

-JRR Tolkien

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel and groaned softly in frustration. Christmas songs crooned on my car radio. Through my windshield, the sun set in brilliant oranges and pinks. I had wasted a day of driving from town to town looking for the perfect Christmas present, and now as the sun descended, I had reluctantly turned my car towards home, exhausted from the day. Signs of a road closure suddenly came into view, and further frustration welled up as I found myself detoured from my usual route. I wound around a lone country road for a mile or two before I saw a sign that declared I was entering Christmastown, population unincorporated. Frustration turned into confusion, and I pulled over to the side of the road, surprised I had never heard of Christmastown, and googled my location. Indeed, I was headed for a hidden, but apparently well-loved touristy town that celebrated Christmas year-round. The google search told me a group of like-minded people created the town because of their incredible love for Christmas and wanted people to have the opportunity to feel the magic of Christmas all through the year. As I pulled back onto the road, I thought that ridiculously sweet, and I felt a tiny spark of hope that they could help me with my impossible find.

             The town came into view, and the one-street town was brightly lit and lined with cars. The village street looked the part with twinkling Christmas lights, brightly lit shops, and wreath-decorated streetlights. Christmas music, warm and cheery, poured from speakers attached to the streetlights. I parked at the end of the street and got out in strange anticipation. I breathed in the December night air as I bundled my coat closer and realized belatedly that it wasn’t at all cold. I smiled to myself and silently thanked the gods that I had stumbled into this Christmas haven.

             The first shop along the sidewalk boasted free hot chocolate. My stomach growled as I opened the door to the smell of freshly baked goods, hopefully in the form of cookies and cakes. A couple of patrons milled around the tables and shelves as I followed the smells of Christmas. At the check-out counter, cups of hot chocolate and plates of frosted sugar cookies beckoned me.

             A young woman behind the counter smiled and said, “Please have some. No charge.” I smiled back gratefully.

The green frosted sugar cookie melted in my mouth and I perused the shop at leisure. Porcelain dolls, train sets, and children’s books lined the tables. I had walked into a children’s store. The man I was shopping for endearingly embraced his inner child, and he found the fun in everything he did. The spark of hope blossomed.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” The woman behind the counter asked as I approached the front of the shop.

“I’m not sure,” I replied, “I am not looking for anything for a child, but an adult.”

“Children’s books are popular for people of all ages. We have lots of genres of children’s books. Fiction, nonfiction, fantasy…” My heart skipped a beat.

She trailed off and smiled. “You lit up. Do you have an idea of what you want now?” I nodded and told her what some of his favorite books were. He had once told me reading Thor Oakenshield’s death had made him cry.  As I walked out of the shop with The Hobbit in my hand, my stomach full from cookies and hot chocolate, the cool air felt good on my warm face. I had found a great gift, it seemed, but it still wasn’t perfect.

The next shop down was just as charming as the last, fantastically decorated in gold, red, and green. It pulled me in just as Jingle Bells came onto the speaker. I found myself humming to the tune as it continued more loudly in the store. Once again, I grinned as I looked around. The open space was full of puzzles, brain-teasers and games. Another good place to search for the perfect gift. The man I was shopping for had a mind that buzzed nonstop. I often teased him that he was always thinking about eight things at once. Having a conversation with him required attention, patience, and humor. He was brilliant.

Groups of teenagers clustered in the store, giggling over gag gifts. I bypassed them and walked around until I found a bin full of fidget toys and squishy balls. I pulled out an incredibly strong magnetic ball and meandered around the store. I found that the shapes I had formed with the magnets had kept me completely entertained. I had found another great gift.

As I stepped out once again onto the festive street, my heart felt lighter and more content. I strolled along the shops now, no longer apprehensive. As if to add to the already magical surrounding, snowflakes floated down from the inky black sky. At the end of the street, I turned to go back to my car when I noticed a store further down, away from the lights and the music. It was dimly lit but was decorated in shimmery blue and twinkling silver lights, and I felt a soft pull towards the shop. The lights turned to shadows, and a chill ran down my spine. I stopped in front of the window but could only see the lights and the reflection of the outside lights. I hesitated slightly but opened the door to the soft jangle of a bell.

Melodic chimes, bells, and rhythmic tick-tocks pervaded the space. Blue lights of every hue were strung on the ceiling, around the counter, and on every clock that was packed in the store. I lurched to a halt at the sight of the clocks, and my heart sunk in disappointment. I turned to leave.

“Hello, dear,” a small, wavering voice stopped me. In the corner of the room, an old woman stood cleaning the face of beautiful grandfather clock. She wore a light blue sweater with dark blue pants and a necklace of blue Christmas lights. She paused her polishing and turned towards me. Her faded blue eyes stared into mine.

 “What are you looking for?” She asked with a sweet smile.

“The perfect gift,” I responded automatically.

“And what is the perfect gift? What are you hoping to find?”

“Not this,” I said as I waved my hand at the hundreds of clocks that lined the walls. “The man I am shopping for hates this.”

“He hates clocks?” Surprise laced her voice as she walked behind the counter.

“No,” I retracted, “Not clocks. Time. He hates time.”

“Ah,” she said, “Why is that?” She gestured for me to sit in the rocking chair next to the counter. Her quiet demeanor was refreshing in the hustle and bustle of shopping, and without giving my feet permission to do so, I found myself walking towards the chair. Almost immediately, the soothing rocking motion calmed my heart.

“I am shopping for my best friend. My favorite person.” Tears filled my eyes. Surprised by the overwhelming emotion, I closed my eyes, continued to rock, and softly admitted, “He is the love of my life. He saved me, not only from my situation, but from myself. I was so hard on me. I still am. And because of this, sometimes I am hard on him. We found each other late in life. We are still bound by other responsibilities and have so little time to be with each other. I miss him so much so often. We just need more time.” I opened my eyes, tears now falling freely down my cheeks. She nodded kindly and reached for something under the counter. She pulled out a beautiful black watch lined with silver and gold. She walked around the counter and stood in front of me. She held out her hand and gently placed the watch in my outstretched palm.

“This will be perfect for him then. You will give him the gift of time.”

I clutched the watch and let the knowing settle in. This was it, the perfect gift. I had finally found it. I got up from the rocking chair and paid her for the watch. As she put the money in the cash register, she caught my eye and asked, “Do you hate time as well?”

I shook my head as the answer hit me abruptly. “No,” I said softly, “I don’t hate time. I love how every moment of our love has been so transformational, when we are together and when we are apart.”

As I drove away, I glanced in the rearview mirror as the magical town faded in the distance. The lights disappeared quickly and the loss pulled at my heart. The time finding the perfect present had been hard, exhausting, and frustrating. But, as I glanced down at the gifts in my passenger seat, my heart warmed, and I hoped he would know how much our love meant to me. The love within them was timeless.