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Home for Christmas
A story in Six Installments
Based upon the real-life experiences of a Rhode Island Family
Interviews by Paula Andreason of The East Bay Coalition for the Homeless
Written by The Rev. Dr. Leslie S. Simonson
Interim Pastor - Hope Congregational Church,
United Church of Christ East Providence, Rhode Island
Chapter One - The Phone Call
Mona sat down at the table, wearily. She closed her eyes for a moment and began to rub her forehead with tense fingers. The firm, yet soothing, touch felt good, even when she had to massage this taught, tight skin with her own two hands. Mona remembered that tonight Joel would come home from work and do this for her, with her. Even after a four-day run, with hours of loading the truck, driving to its destination, unloading all those heavy barrels and returning in the early dark, her husband would greet her gladly, lovingly, at day's end: "head first." Then she would sit him down with a mug of coffee and rub his shoulders and neck, returning the favor.
"It's a strange thing," she thought, picturing her thumb already in that knot of muscle just to the right of his spine, "it's a strange thing how each person carries their worries in this world so differently."
Mona would work out all the puzzles in her mind - going over each option she could imagine, listing all the pros and cons, carefully thinking her way through to the end of each idea before making any choice. And so it was her head that ached at the end of the day. Joel was a man who sized up a situation pretty quickly and stacked up or shifted around all the pieces of any predicament to make them balance.
"Then," he said, "even if you've still got the same number of problems,
the lighter ones are on top, and you can deal with those first. It's just like how I handle the truck." Indeed, it was. Which was why she would go straight for his shoulders, and help him work out the stiffness of the cares they carried, one at a time.
The phone rang.
And Mona could feel her forehead begin to furrow again.
It wouldn't be good news.
It was never good news on the other end of the line these days.
The school nurse? Rhaenna and John were both fighting colds, but she'd sent them off this morning to Eastside Elementary anyway. Rhaenna,
their 10-year-old daughter loved school and got so easily bored when confined to home. John, their 8 year-old son, loved soccer after school and wouldn't be denied a single practice session. And today was an actual game.
The phone rang again.
Perhaps it was David's Scout troop leader. That would be a pleasant call to get! David was shaping up to be Eagle Scout material one of these days. They'd known it since he was a Cub. And David's troop had just begun planning a winter campout weekend, to be held in February school vacation. "Never too early to start organizing" David believed. "But sometimes too late." That boy was his father's son for sure. And he lived by the motto "Be prepared." She was so proud of them both, proud of them all. But David, at 13, was growing up fastest, growing strong, and well, …aspiring to be "the man of the house" when Joel was away on long hauls, days and nights on end.
The phone kept ringing.
Mona made up her mind.
It would be the Scout leader, not the school nurse. It would be good news this time, and this one piece of good news would turn around her whole mood. Then, when David and Rhaenna got home she could greet them with a smile. Maybe she would shoo them back out the door again, before they even got their coats off and they would all walk back to school and cheer for John at his soccer game.
The phone persisted.
Mona reached for it, but never even got "hello" formed and offered.
"Mona, is that you? It's Fred here."
By his voice, she could tell it was more bad news. It took more than 'making up your mind' to straighten out the twists and turns of their troubles these days.
Fred was Joel's foreman.
She instantly thought, "He's been laid off. Just in time for the holidays. They always do it to you just before the holidays."
But it was even worse than that.
"Mona, come as quickly as you can. It's Joel. He's in the hospital.
He's alive…so don't go all frantic on me. And he's conscious….No it wasn't a crash. I mean, it wasn't another vehicle. What crashed was a 50 lb. barrel
…when he opened the back of the truck His shoulder took the hit….
Mona, don't cry like that. Yes, I'm sure he's alive. The rescue squad came quickly. You'll see his neck in a brace. No, listen to me, Mona; it's a preventive thing. They always do that now….Yes, talking. Talking clearly.
….The Miriam Hospital….It was the closest. I'll meet you there. Drive
slowly, Mona. He's going to make it. It's going to be all right."
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Her hands gripped the steering wheel and her mind repeated the words of encouragement. "He's going to make it. It's going to be all right." But she didn't believe it. Not a word of it. She thought her son's motto held more truth. "Be Prepared.".
"Be very prepared," she told herself. "Be prepared for the worst."
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Libby put kettle on in Mona's kitchen. And she rummaged through the cupboards to find the instant hot chocolate for Mona's kids. None was there.
And not much else, either, come to think of it. Dried beans. Half a jar of peanut butter. One can of tuna fish. Two tins of soup. Not even the same soup. What did Mona have in mind for dinner?
Libby and Mona were best of friends. Or so Libby had thought. But Mona hadn't mentioned any money troubles. Not real ones. Just the ordinary end of the month stretching exercise that all families were going through this time of year.
"Best friends should tell each other things." Libby muttered to herself. "Then again, best friends should hold their tongues and focus on hot chocolate."
Rhaenna and David would be home soon. Bad news was a little easier
to swallow if it came with comfort food. They would be so worried for their dad. Libby scurried off down the road to her own home, right next door, and was back in a flash with hot chocolate. And another can of tuna, and some pasta that she'd stir together to make a casserole for supper.
Who knew when Mona could return that night?
At the stop light, halfway home, Rhaenna, patiently watched the colors go yellow, red, then green. "I like the red and green ones best," she said to
Lori as they crossed. "They make me think of Christmas."
On the soccer field at Eastside Elementary, the goalie wondered why no one came to cheer his every save. Mom had promised she would try. But these days she needed more rest. And it was harder for her to walk eight blocks than it used to be, what with the new baby coming this winter, and all.
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