Ella is sifting through her belongings again. She is trying to discern what items to give away, what items to simply recycle as no longer being useful. As she sorts things into piles she comes across an item that only sees the light of day once a year. This particular item has never been used.
The envelope is thin, yellowed and brittle, no longer closes and holds calendars of many years’ past. These are her Great Aunt Anna’s Advent Calendars. They had been shipped to Anna from Anna’s cousin Regina. They cost little more than a dollar then and, per the enclosed information, the proceeds had gone to research for the Epilepsy Association of America. The smaller business was called “Little Christmas Town”. This business imported Advent Calendars made in Germany.
She had opened these small aged Advent Calendars before but had always put them back within their fragile envelope home. One of Ella’s small legacies from Anna. Each calendar holding a snowy scenic Christmas town where windows and doors opened to reveal magical scenes of another bygone era . Their beauty warmed her heart. Something more visual of a time past. Something more than Anna’s school book and her Lutheran Hymnal, both written in German, of which Ella also had in her keeping. She knew Anna’s family had emigrated here from Germany generations before the ember of life was lit within her. This year she paused, hesitated, was reluctant to put them away again.
The Winter season had been very rainy and wet. One storm after another buffeted her door step as though in doing so it would gain entry, the winds driving it down in soaked blankets. Nature might appreciate the weather’s efforts at an attempt to beautify the outdoors but Ella could not. She never reconciled with Winter and unfortunately, Winter was the holiday season. This year all her sense of reason had simply vanished…vanished and was swallowed up by the long cold, wet days of unrelenting dampness. It seemed to be especially difficult this year. Ella’s heart seemed dark, sad, devoid of joy and happiness. The colors had drained from life, seeping from any object she set her eyes upon. It was like peering through a murky gray that lurks in sludge filled water. Visibility was nil. She needed something to lift her spirits. Memories of Anna began to spark. Little ones at first. Then gradually they became something more.
She was a young girl the very first time she met her. Her mother didn’t speak highly of Anna. She only would say that her aunt had rented to her and Ella’s father before she was born. A little house just right for newlyweds. But her mother was certain Anna had come into the house upon their absence to nose about. She would only say that Anna’s German roots precluded her to being so. Anna seemed tethered to always being right, being stubborn, being a woman of order and mostly a woman who liked to be in control. Ella had never met Anna so was only prepared for the worse. Yet, Anna couldn’t be any worse than her mother. A woman of similar tendenacies coupled with a voracious temper.
It was before Christmas and for reasons Ella could not really understand, her mother had decided they should visit Anna. They went of an evening in the ’52 Ford her dad affectionately called Betsy. The night was clear and the Christmas lights twinkled, as though winking at her through the car window and as they passed their colors lighted up the night sky. She knew her aunt lived in the big city of Los Angeles but had never been there. The house Anna lived in was not big and looked much like most of the homes on the street where she lived. Her father parked the car by the curb and she followed her mother to the door.
Anna answered and seemed genuinely happy to see them. Her husband had died years before and she had no children of her own. Ella surmised that her aunt must be lonely. She wore a simple plain cotton dress, buttons on the top, short sleeves, a belt at the waist and sturdy black shoes with heals on her feet. Her hair that showed signs of graying was pulled up in a bun at the nape of her neck and she wore glasses. To Ella, she didn’t seem stern or stubborn but upon entering her house, she could tell Anna was a woman of order. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be found as far as she could tell. Introductions were made by her mother and Ella settled down, as she knew she should, to wait until the visit was over. She was surprised when Anna asked her to come to her as she sat in her chair in the living room. She hesitated but approached her as she was asked to do.
Anna asked her if she would like to learn numbers in German. Ella, always curious, tentatively nodded her head. Her aunt pulled her close and holding up two fingers, she began to walk her two fingers up Ella’s arm. With each step her fingers took her aunt counted…eins, zwei, drei, vier, funf, sechs, sieben, acht, neun, zehn. She stopped, looked into Ella’s small face, reached up and pulled Ella’s ear lobe. Ella was in awe and when she smiled at Anna, the game proceeded once more. After a few times, Anna encouraged Ella to mimic each number after she spoke it and Ella did. She would never see Anna again but the memory held fast as though etched in place and in time.
When Ella’s first granddaughter was small, she would play the same game with her, walking two fingers up her arm to end ringing the doorbell by pulling her ear lobe. Her granddaughter could not manage to imitate her nor speak the numbers in German but always the smile did appear. Each time Ella was enchanted and always Anna was near.
So, on this day, rather than tuck the Advent Calendars away for yet another year, she chose one. She would open each small window, each small door and look at every number, especially the ones she knew in German….one through ten… and would think of Anna. Now she had something to look forward to and the colors of her life began to transmute from their formidable gray into the bright colors of the holidays, like the twinkling bright lights that winked at her through the window of the car on a holiday night many years ago. Now, she had Anna’s Christmas Spirit with her and knew she was not alone. She knew that the Christmas Spirit can be found in the most unlikeliest of places.
© December 2017 Renee Espriu
I have written short stories on my site in the past, which are under the heading above, but have not added one for some years now. The above story is based on some fact but has been written as creative fiction. I do hope everyone has a holiday season filled with peace. The photo above is mine which I digitally altered just a little.
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