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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 1990-12-21, Page 33THE CITIZEN, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 21, 1990. PAGE 33. The 4 Box A Christmas story by Mary Ann Miners BY MARY ANN MINERS RR 2, BLUEVALE The box, recycled from the liquor store, for it had a Canadian Club pasted on the side, sat in a pool of isolation on the floor at the end of the cupboard where she had dump­ ed it. The delivery man, jolly with the spirits of the season had been astonished at the hostility facing him and kt the fierce slam of the door. “How dare they? Who do they think I am?’’ She did three quick turns around the scarred kitchen table, her hands clasping and unclasping as she fumed. “We don’t need their charity.’’ A brightly wrapped package that had tumbled from the box on impact caught her eye and she gave it a shove with her toe that sent it skittering across the cracked lino­ leum into the comer by the cat’s dish. Smokey, Jim’s ancient pet, gave her a big eyed stare before taking refuge under the rocker that was the depository, sooner or later of all that came through the door. Hats, coats, books, lunch pails, groceries, mail. Each eventually landed here. Sometimes briefly, at others hiding until someone searched desperately for whatever was missing. Retrieving the parcel, clearly marked “boy eight years” and another from the box marked “girl six years” she pushed them into the back of the cabinet under the sink and snapped the door shut. Sliding to her knees her head resting against the wooden door she struggled to pull herself toge­ ther and finally with an effort made it to her feet. Everything lately seemed such an exertion. A frozen turkey, starting to sweat from the warmth of the kitchen showed beads of moisture on its plastic skin. Like those that used to appear on Jim’s brow last June when the temperature rose into the eighties while they were baling the hay in the south field. Perspiration formed beads that grew into rivulets then dripped off his nose and ran down the back of his sunburned neck leaving rosy trails through the grime of hay dust. He never took time to wipe it away. Just let it run. Staring duly into the box she watched through a shimmering mist as great drops splashed onto its contents. Tears. Those ever threatening tears that she would not, could not allow, since that day six weeks before when she had found Jim in the silo room. Where he had blown apart her world along with the top of his head. Sobbing as the teardrops fell she shouted to the empty house “Jim you coward. I hate you. Damn you. I hate you. Why? Why were you so weak? I loved you. 1 didn’t care about the bank or Farm Credit. 1 was proud to be your wife. We could have made it together. We would have survived together. Where the hell are you when I need you? You left me alone. So alone.” Her words echoed in the stillness. The box showing a crimson stain where something had broken ap­ peared to her as a symbol of all that she had been through. She lifted it onto the counter and began to throw things from it in every direction. The turkey went boun­ cing and dapcing in little circles until it came to rest against the back door. Boxes of stuffing mix and jello and cans of soup and vegetables, all that was needed to make Christmas dinner were hurl­ ed over her shoulder'to land where they might. A piece of Christmas fruit cake hit the fridge and fell to the floor with a thud. Turning the box upside down she scattered the remains in a wide circle around the kitchen. All this time the tears streamed down her face onto her blouse, soaking it. Trying to stop the tears was impossible. Through the haze she surveyed the mess that she had created and a tiny watery smile touched her lips. Slowly she bent and gathered the offending groceries and put them away out of sight. Then slumped, despondent at the table, head in hands, weeping. Later, much later, she wearily climbed the stairs to the storage cubby hole at the top, unearthed 9^ r. r. r ''During the year, in the rush of events, we tend to overlook the important friendships that are the true basis of business relationships. One of the great pleasures of the Jdoliday Season is the opportunity to exchange cordial greetings with those whose friendship and goodwill we value so highly. In this spirit it is our pleasure to say ,,(Thank You” and extend our sincere appreciation for the very pleasant association we enjoy with you. Jrfay a bright and prosperous SNew Year, bring happiness to you and to yours. iEllintt Ihisnratuf Wnkera ffiimiteb the carton containing the tree and another with the decorations and lugged them .down to the living room. The children could help put them up when they got home. They would be thrilled to discover that they were going to have their Christmas tree after all. The tears were dry now. She’d had her cry. They had cleansed the Wayne & Gerrie Kennedy & family R.R.3, Blyth 523-9837 bitterness away. The pain had subsided leaving only an aching that she knew would be with her always. The tears had been a sweet blessing. Now she would have to be strong. To carry on. Oh yes she had had her cry. Quietly humming Silent Night she put the turkey into the sink to thaw.