This year was the most delicious Christmas dinner ever. It was the same menu, of course, but the combination of Vi’s moist turkey, and the sisters seasoning skills, made it super duper delicious.
But the contender for best Christmas Meal Ever was following the ice storm - and it had nothing to do with a super-hot fireman (okay, it did).
Every year Jim does a toy drive. He and his colleagues collect money, and buy toys which they take it to the local fire hall, where volunteers distribute gifts for kids on Christmas morning. This year went according to plan, and they had dozens of bags of toys to give to the children. There was also a bit of money left over, so I volunteered to come with him for another shopping spree. The plan was that we’d buy the toys, drop them off, and go out for breakfast.
So we bought the toys, and headed to the local fire-hall. Driving was a slow because of the recent ice storm, and people were walking tentatively on the sidewalks. (But the trees were so beautiful!) We drove up to the fire station, and rang the doorbell. I envisioned a super hunk sliding down the pole – but nothing. We waited for a few minutes and looked through the window and realized there were no trucks. Everybody was out.
So we went to another fire hall. Same thing. Rang the bell, waited for a super hunk, and wriggled our toes to keep warm.
|Let me grab the hot sauce|
We drove on. The streets were pretty slippery, and some branches had started to fall. The streets, due to massive snow banks, were narrower than usual and cars had to inhale when passing.
I assumed that when you do a good deed it would be easy. I assumed that the effort comes with the providing, not the delivering. But I assumed wrongly. Firstly, things rarely go according to plan. Secondly, we are not that important. No matter what we are trying to do, there is always something bigger going on in the world. And this time it was Mother Nature. And due to Mother, there were a lot of domestic emergencies.
Later than morning we arrived at another Fire Hall and rang the bell. Jim peered through the window and saw a fire truck. A good sign. Seconds later the door was opened by a super hunk in a short-sleeved shirt with 22’ biceps. The smell of bacon came wafting from upstairs. He smiled, 'Just got in, it's been a busy morning. We’re making breakfast.'
I would like to say that we were invited in for eggs, and that Mr. March and Mr. November were kneading bread in nothing but their boots. But that didn’t happen. What did happen is that we exchanged ‘Merry Christmas’s’ and went out for breakfast on our own. Amidst the storm and the bad coffee we felt small and humble in a city where so many people were working so hard to make things right.
And it was the best breakfast, ever.