Blue December (In the City)

All the streets so lonesome, Christmas lights like confetti in the sky, spinning 'round and 'round... but I know I'll find a new December in the city, as the world goes by in rhyme...

          It's as though there is not a soul left in the city. I walk down the snow covered streets of Manhattan, my gentle husky padding alongside me. The streetlights that stretch down Main Street illuminate the falling snow like fireflies descending from the Heavens above. New York, New York suddenly feels like a small town. It's nice. Hustle and bustle can get to you sometimes. It's astounding that there's a quiet side to such a boastful city.

        Christmas Eve 1985 isn't going exactly as I'd initially planned. Mom couldn't fly in because Grandma couldn't fly in, with her being severely plagued by a vicious bout of influenza. My husband is a total lapdog of an assistant to his boss, so he simply couldn't get off of work. Tonight, it's just me and Charlie. And once I get home, maybe Jimmy Stewart will join us on my TV screen.

         My snow boots crunching against the freshly fallen snow are as loud as an echo in a barren cave. I glance around at my surroundings down the avenue. A select few 24 hour coffee shops and 99 cent stores are still open. Christmas lights don the store windows like confetti falling from the sky. The faint sounds of Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra crooning their classic tunes can be heard as I walk past each door on the block.  "Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light..."  Easy as that, huh Frank? A realization hits me. "Damn it, damn it, damn it...", I whisper aloud. I head into the nearest 99 Cent Store, grab what I need, and head back on my trail.

      Before I can comprehend it, my feet are carrying me down the pathway to the place I know all too well. My gaze casts down towards the fluffy creature next to me. "Come on, Charlie. Let's go say hi." Making sure to look both ways as Mother always taught me, the old husky and I skip across the street. Charlie already knows the way, and he leads me to the right place. I kneel down

in front of Dad's gravestone, not even minding that I might get hypothermia of the kneecaps.     "Sorry I didn't come by earlier today. I know, first thing I do every Christmas is stop by to see you, but... I don't know. It was harder this time around. Every year it seems to get harder."

   I plop myself down on the ground, sitting and leaning against the stone. God, it was way too quiet for New York City. The city that never sleeps was in a golden slumber tonight. Charlie lays down in front of the grave, front paws adorably tucked under him. I smile his way, reaching my hand out to carefully bat away the snow that's begun to cling to his fluffy coat. The sound of nearby footsteps emanates in my ears. I look to my right, witnessing an elderly couple walking by, holding three Macy's bags filled to the brim. Those are going to be some very ecstatic grandkids tomorrow morning. I gaze down at my gloved hands. "So Mom couldn't make it in today. Harry's not home tonight either. I'd say it's alright, but we both know it kinda... ain't." Unwanted tears fill my eyes. "At least we have each other for now, right?" Charlie inches closer to me. "I wish you were here, Pop. Things might be easier if you were."

     As I lean my head against the stone, the sound of children's laughter begins to float through the air. A pair of little girls in red winter coats and thick knit scarves run by happily chanting, "We're gonna get you Santa!" A tall blonde woman, presumably their mother, chases after them looking exhausted yet dons a brilliant smile. She cheerily shouts, "Don't go too far, girls! Santa isn't that far away!" A ginger-haired man, presumably Dad, holding a small boy in his arms walks closely in tandem with the woman. A solemn smile crosses my face. The parents glance to their left and spot me, casually waving. I wave back. They continue on following their daughters into the blue Christmas Eve in the city. Charlie lets out a small whine, as though to remind me where I was.  

   "Remember that Christmas Eve where, uh... It was the year after Nana died. You were adamant on making sure we had the traditional seven fishes she made every year. How old could I have

been, 12? 13?"

   I glance around the empty graveyard. The snow keeps falling,  blanketing the floors of New York City even further. "'We gotta uphold our Italian traditions', you said. 'And when you get married and have your own family, you gotta keep them alive. Family and traditions, they're everything.' It amazed me how much you loved Christmastime. How much you loved it made me love it even more."

Charlie nosed at the poinsettias in my hand that I'd definitely forgotten about. Snow had lightly gathered on the ruby red petals. I gently place them against the front of Dad's gravestone.

    "So then, at 12a.m. that night, officially Christmas, you and I walked hand in hand to Roy's Fish Market. Snow started falling exactly at that time. I'd never witnessed a white Christmas before. You leaned down and whispered to me, 'Just like Mr. Crosby sang about.' I couldn't have pictured a better moment in time. Walking to the market on a white Christmas evening with my favorite person in the world. I'd give anything to relive that." The tears came quicker as I closed out those last few words. My hand finds the protruding bump in my midsection.

     Ding.... Dong.... Ding....

 Distant church bells began to ring, which meant it was inching closer to midnight. I finally stand up, discarding the snow from my pants and wiping the tears from my face. Charlie stands up along with me. Still cradling my stomach, I whisper brokenly, "I'll tell my son... or daughter... about you every day." I glance down at my dad's gravestone with melancholy one last time. "Well, I guess it's time I head off. Gotta get the fish for tomorrow. Plus, Harry should be home soon. Hopefully." I shut my eyes for a brief moment, replaying every holiday memory I had with my father. "Merry Christmas, Pop. I'll see you soon."

 In an instant, Charlie started pulling me along the snow-covered city sidewalk with much fervor.

 "Whoa boy, slow your roll there!" I commanded. Almost slipping as Charlie pulled me

forward, my hand instantly protectively came up around my midsection. "Okay boy, relax!" I shakily exclaim. He slows down and treks on beside me. It dawns on me as we make a right down 32nd Street where Charlie started taking me. We begin heading in the direction of the old fish market. I let out a sigh, looking down at my fluffy guy in disbelief. "You're one hell of a canine, huh?"

       

     I open the door to Roy's, the man of the hour standing behind the counter already serving a few people. Roy's wife spots me in an instant, waving excitedly and smiling wide. I wave and smile back at the sweet older woman. Roy and Linda have seen me grow up, acting almost as my second set of parents. Roy was close with my dad. I head to the back of the store, first grabbing the biggest package of biscotti on the shelf. Turning around, I open the freezer door and grab a package of shrimp and only a package of shrimp, knowing I'll gather the other six fish at the counter. Roy likes picking out my fish, and I love him enough to let him.

     Walking up to the counter, Roy spots me and instantly chants, "Ahhh, there's my favorite little Lizzie!"  I smile widely and reply, "There's my favorite salmon vendor!"

     He comes around the counter to give me a big bear hug, swaying me back and forth. I feel comforted in Roy's fatherly embrace. As he pulls back, he does a double take at my protruding belly. "Well, would ya look at that." He puts his hand on my belly and his fingers to his head as though reading someone's mind. "I predict... I predict that there's a little Harry swimming around in there," he says with a gentle smile.

      "Maybe, maybe not. Harry and I don't want to know until the little sucker pops out. But believe me, you'll be the first to know once he or she does," I replied.

Still holding his gentle smile towards me, Roy says, "Your father would have been overjoyed."

 I avert my now saddened gaze to the ground beneath my feet. "Oh, he would've been the world's best Poppy."

  To avoid any further saddening, Roy quickly changes the subject. "I think it's time we pick out your select fishies for this year's Christmas dinner, huh?"

 I grinned and nodded my head delightedly. Charlie releases a loud bark, reminding everyone that he's also in the room. Roy laughs and pats the old dog's head.

 "How's my little buddy doing?" he inquired of Charlie. "I think I've got a special little treat for you here." He runs behind the counter quickly grabbing a freshly cooked piece of flounder, tossing it straight into my dog's mouth. Charlie munches happily on the fish and Roy lets out a chuckle, "Glad you enjoyed that." He looks back at me, his eyes smiling. "Now, let's see what we can get you, my dear Lizzie."

         Roy heads back around the counter and picks out multiple different kinds of fish, from tilapia to salmon to even eel ("I promise, you'll like it, I really promise," he reassures me). Roy hands Linda each fish and she wraps them up perfectly; a system they've had for as long as I could remember. After each time he hands her a piece of fish, she says, "Thank you, darling." He quickly retorts, "No, thank you." They never fail to be overly adorable towards each other.

"Alright, my dear," Roy says, bringing me back to reality. "Everything is good to go."

  Linda hands me the paper bag filled with the seafood and the box of biscottis. "Thank you so much, you guys. You're the best."

 "Of course, darling," Linda says. "Just so you know, there's a half gallon carton of our homemade eggnog hidden somewhere in there, on us. We know how much you and your dad loved it whenever you stopped over our home around this time of year."

My eyes begin to fill with tears again. "Oh, you didn't have to --" I stop myself. "I mean.. thank

 you, guys. That means more than you can imagine."  They each send a warm smile my way.

    "You ready, Charlie?" The old dog rises up from his sprawled out position, prepared to head home. My eyes land on Roy and Linda one more time and I smile gratefully at them. "Have a Merry Christmas, you two." They wave goodbye to me as Charlie and I exit the store. With the heavy bag tucked in my left arm and the dog leash wrapped around my right hand, we head back into the cold winter evening.

     The snow seems to have slowed down a bit, and the clouds seem to have parted enough to exhibit the Little Dipper shining across the night sky. Charlie and I continue our trek home through the nearly empty city, and a huge wave of exhaustion washes over me. The four hours of sleep last night (and four months of pregnancy) seem to be catching up with me now, as I'm beginning to feel the intense urge to flop down somewhere and shut my eyes for eight hours. Just to relax for a moment, I find the nearest bench and pull Charlie with me on over to it. A pillow of snow covered the bench, which I quickly heaved off. I placed the bag down next to me on the freezing seat as Charlie sat down on the cold ground at my feet. I let out a long, satisfying breath and watched the vapor escape my lips, filling the air for a brief second. As soon as my eyes began to close, my ears picked up the sound of singing voices and jingling bells coming my way.

"Good King Wenceslas looked out

On the Feast of Stephen..."

     "God, not this song again..." I say, slightly irritated that these carolers are interrupting my moment of rest with the song they sing on repeat every year through the city. The voices grew closer and closer and before I knew it, a group of six people walked slowly past me.

"When the snow lay 'round about

Deep and crisp and even..."

All of a sudden, they come to a stop directly in front of me. Somehow they've all spotted me and decided to continue their caroling right at me.

     The classic Christmas tune continues for another minute or so. Once they finish, one of the ladies in the group looks at me hopefully. She asks, "Do you have a request for a carol, ma'am? Anything at all you'd like to hear?"

Something in me wanted to hear a familiar tune. The request easily rolled off my lips, ""It Came Upon a Midnight Clear"."

 The group grinned at me, pleased that I had at least requested something. Most people weren't too nice to the carolers or just simply ignored them altogether.

"It came upon the midnight clear,

That glorious song of old.

From angels bending near the earth,

To touch their harps of gold..."

     All at once, with each lyric sung, Christmas memories flitted across my mind. I could see my dad and I slow dancing to the song in front of the fireplace while Mom looked on. I could see Mom and I string the popcorn across the tree and Dad ripping pieces off to eat, even though he knew Mom would smack him for it later. I could see myself waking up on Christmas morning, not comprehending the number of gifts sitting under the tree, my parents casting their sweet smiles towards me. I could see everything.

Before I knew it, the song ended. The memories ended. My face felt wet with tears once again. God, will you ever stop crying, Lizzie?

"That was lovely." I said to the carolers before me. I pull a crumpled $50 bill from my pocket and hand it to the woman who'd initially asked for a song. "Merry Christmas."

All the carolers responded, "Merry Christmas to you too, miss."

 As they headed off into the dark Christmas Eve, I gathered my composure, picked up my brown bag and headed back on the road home. I pass by the Catholic church up the block from the cemetery. The bells rang loudly into the snowy Christmas midnight.

 Midnight Mass was sure to be going on right now, I briefly thought to myself.

I walked across the street, walked down the next block, (not bearing to glance at the cemetery again) and turned right onto Main Street.

After six more steps upward and onward, Charlie and I finally reached our destination. Harry's car was still gone. I released a disappointment filled sigh. What else should I expect from him? I gently drop the heavy bag onto the front step as I unlock the door. Charlie trots through the entrance as soon as the door swings open. I drop the bag onto the counter and switch on the living room lamp. I pad over to the kitchen to brew up a cup of instant hot cocoa. In two minutes it's ready and poured into one of my old Santa mugs. I head on over to my regular seat. Shedding my coat and gloves onto the floor without a care, I sit myself down on the plushy red couch that sits by the window.

      My eyes ghost across the silent, snow-blanketed city. Sometimes I wish New York was always like this; peaceful, harmless, unmoving. The streetlights  twinkle as the snowfall picks up  again. A few more stores close their shop lights down. I open the window, wanting to feel the cold nip of the December air on my face again.

 There's a slight kick against the inside of my stomach. I graze my hand across my stomach. Another kick. My face splits into a wide grin. "There he is. Alive and kicking, aren't ya?" I whisper.

Charlie hops up onto the old couch with me, placing his head in my lap. I take a sip from my

warm mug and let the sweet taste of chocolate dance across my tongue for a brief second. Charlie's light snoring and the ticking of the clock above me are the only sounds surrounding me. Content. I'm content. Alone, but content nonetheless. There are countless tales of people who end up alone on Christmas. I'm not the only one. Though this Christmas Eve hasn't necessarily gone as planned, it hasn't been all that awful. It could be worse.

     The baby gives my tummy another little kick. I smile. I take another sip of the hot cocoa in my hands. The cool December breeze dances across my face. As I close my eyes contentedly, I can almost hear my father speaking to me.

"Remember Lizzie: you are never alone. No matter where I am, no matter how far away I'll be someday, I am always with you. It sounds like a sappy Hallmark card saying, I know. But, it's important for you to remember. You'll never be truly alone. And one day, you'll be in my place, saying the same thing to your kid. Always hold onto that."

     I take in a deep breath, then slowly exhale. I gaze out the window, down towards the empty parking space. I listen for a moment for a potential telephone ring. Not a peep.

     Another little tap presses against the right side of my stomach. I cover the area with my almost frostbitten hand.

"Remember Lizzie: you are never alone."

Amidst the empty streets and dimming streetlights, the sound of silence and the echoes of empty space, the minuscule foot tapping against me makes it almost plain.

"You are never alone."