The Christmas Parcel

December twenty-third is the second-shortest day of the year, but it loomed long and stretched for miles, beginning and ending in darkness, with a touch of gloominess sandwiched in between. Letitia Carson’s knees throbbed with the arthritis that was her constant companion. It was two days before Christmas, but it might as well have been the Ides of March. Her children and grandchildren were scattered around the country. They all phoned regularly enough, but no one had mentioned any holiday plans that included her. Oh well, they all had their lives to live, she thought. They weren’t guilty of anything she hadn’t done herself in her younger days. No use feeling sorry for herself; it was simply the way of the world, and lying in bed wasn’t going to make it any better. She stopped short as she passed the mirror on her bureau. When had she become that old lady with the bent back and white hair? A chill crept through her bones, and she pulled her housecoat tighter around her.

Letitia was drying her few breakfast dishes when the doorbell rang. Probably the mailman. He always found a reason to ring Christmas week. Letitia peeked out the window beside the front door. A senior citizen couldn’t be too careful. She had heard that seventy-five was the new sixty, but today, her bones and her mirror both disagreed. A man in a dark blue jacket with the company name emblazoned in red below the collar waited patiently, and Letitia mentally apologized to the mailman. At least someone had remembered to send a gift. She cautiously opened the door.

“Mrs. Letitia Carson?”

“The one and only.”

“Sign here, please. And read the note on the outside of the parcel. It’s very important that you follow the instructions. Would you like me to put this somewhere for you?”

The package was about three feet across and a foot and a half high. Her name was there, as clear as day. There was no return address. “The instructions say that you should keep this in the garage, not in the house. And you’re not to open it until Christmas.’’ the delivery man explained.

“My goodness, who could have sent this? It must be Aaron, my grandson. He’s been a prankster since the day he was born. He’s studying something about ecology at Bishop’s, you know.”

The courier nodded.

“I’m sure he’s doing very well. How about I get this to the garage for you? It’s quite heavy.”

Letitia led him through the kitchen to the garage.

“Why don’t I set it on this work bench, where it’s handy?” The courier set it down and made his escape.

Letitia donned a heavy sweater and gloves, so she wouldn’t freeze while she studied the box. Why did it have to stay in the garage? Aha, she thought to herself when she saw the PERISHABLE sticker. Not opening until Christmas was self-explanatory. But who had sent it? A mystery like this was better shared, so she scurried off to call Betty Fergus, a friend and fellow widow.

After commiserating on their common aches and pains and families, Letitia told her friend the story. “I can’t imagine who sent it, Betty.”

“Why don’t you phone one of your kids? Maybe they’ll know something,” Betty replied.

It occurred to Letitia that she didn’t really want to know. Her Secret Santa had given her two gifts – whatever was hidden in the box and the gift of anticipation. Even opening it on Christmas Day to discover socks or dish towels couldn’t erase the fun she was having now.

            “No,” she paused. “I think I’ll wait.”

“You haven’t gotten in with the wrong people have you, Letty?”

“What are you talking about, Betty?”

“Well, you’re always hearing about gangsters sending body parts as warnings or threats. You don’t know any gangsters, do you?”

“Not that I’m aware of. And even if I did, I don’t think I’m any danger to them.”

“Well, you make sure to check before you open the door. Are we still on for bridge on the 27^th?”

“Of course, Betty, unless I’ve been murdered by then.”

Letitia made several trips to the garage that day. She hardly noticed her knee at all. The senior citizen listed the names of her three children and seven grandchildren and tried to figure out who could have sent the package. She got a little chill that evening as she watched Criminal Minds, thinking about Betty’s idea about body parts. Before she retired for the night, Letitia had one last look in the garage and a quick peek under her bed.

When Letitia awoke on December twenty-fourth, she felt the arthritis in her knees and then remembered the surprise waiting, chilled and unopened in the garage. It was Christmas Eve. “Do not open until Christmas” could mean either today or tomorrow. She would be quite justified in opening it today. But then, what would she do tomorrow? No, she would wait. Surely at least one of her children would call today. She could tell them about the parcel and try to discern by their voices if they knew anything about it. She would be just like Magnum P.I. – the old Magnum, not the new one.

The morning passed quickly. Letitia dusted and tidied up, mostly to avoid spending the entire day in the garage. She would be loath to admit it, but she daydreamed that someone, anyone, would show up at her door. This would be her first Christmas completely alone. Since John, her husband, had died, she had always had one of the children over, or one of them had invited her. But not this year. She wiped away a tear and squared her shoulders. Such was life. And someone had sent her that fascinating gift.

It was late afternoon, and darkness was hovering, threatening to banish the light from Letitia’s home. She turned on her outdoor Christmas lights and the lights on her tree. Perhaps she would attend an early church service this evening. Being with people would be nice. The excitement of the last two days was slipping away, and loneliness was settling in her stomach like a rock.

The doorbell rang. Not likely to be another delivery. Maybe it was carolers. That would be lovely. You didn’t see them much anymore. Letitia opened the door to a sea of smiling faces singing an off-key version of We Wish You a Merry Christmas. They were all faces she knew well, until they blurred behind her misty eyes.

“Hi, Mom. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Grandma.”

“Hi Letty, good to see you.”

They were all here. Her whole family and then some. Letitia quickly daubed at a teardrop or two.

“Oh my. Oh my.” It didn’t happen often, but Letitia was at a loss for words.

Hugs and kisses and questions came at her from all sides.

“Are you surprised, Grams?”

“Oh my.”

“Did you get the parcel, Mom?”

“Oh yes! Which one of you was it?”

“It was all of us. This Christmas took more planning than D-Day. Did you open it yet?”

“Of course not. It said to wait until Christmas. I thought I’d wait until Christmas morning, like when you were children.”

“You should open it now, Mom.”

The whole family made their way through the house to the garage, children, spouses, and grandchildren with boyfriends and girlfriends. Assorted pairs of hands grabbed at the tape when hers fumbled. Nimble fingers pulled back the flaps. And there was Christmas dinner. There were carrots, broccoli, turnips, and potatoes; fruit cake, pies, and shortbread cookies; and the biggest turkey she had seen in years.

Aaron, the prankster, pulled a loaf of bread from a cloth bag. “Look, Grandma, we even brought bread to make the stuffing.”

Grandma’s lips trembled and her tears flowed freely as she searched her pockets for a tissue.

“We thought maybe we could all go to church this evening. Is that all right with you, Mom?”

Letitia wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “You know, that’s exactly what I was thinking of doing before you came. Now, everybody, come give Grams a big hug.”