Searching for Holiday Spirit

Now that we are in the midst of the holiday season, thoughts sometimes turn to earlier times. Although the memories were sometimes clouded with time or seen through rose-colored glasses, some remained bright and vibrant. A tale of an unexpected reward for a duty performed out of necessity and which became the basis for a story was one such memory. The Thanksgiving tale of a family gathering was later accepted for A Yuletide Wish - Poems and Stories for the Extended Holiday Season.

If you're looking for an an uplifting offering of good-news, happy-ending set of stories by established authors from around the globe, the link is at the bottom. 

Excerpt:

The smell of turkey permeated the kitchen as Claire peeled potatoes for Thanksgiving dinner. Finally, she thought, this will be my year. She hummed her favorite carol as she pictured herself in her new black velvet dress sitting at the adult table for the holidays.

The tune stopped mid-note as her mother walked in, phone in hand. Claire knew her mother's look meant bad news. "Please let me move up this year," the fourteen-year old whispered under her breath.

"Claire, go down to the cellar and bring up some more potatoes. Cousins Mike and Irene from western Pennsylvania decided to spend their anniversary in New York City, so I invited them to Thanksgiving dinner here."

Stifling a moan, Claire managed to ask," How many, Mom?"

"Four. Mike and Irene, Billy is ten and the baby is 18 months." Seeing the look on her daughter's face she continued, "I'm sorry, hon. I know you had hoped to sit at the big table, but I need you to help me out and be hostess at the children's table. Maybe next year."

This was my one time to sit with the grown-ups, Claire fumed. Now I don't know when I'll be able to sit there. The family's grown so much; we can barely crowd enough chairs around the table now. I don’t' want to wait until I'm old. I don't want anyone to die, or anything bad to happen. But I really wanted to sit with the adults this year. She had been so hopeful. Her aunt planned to visit an old friend in Texas so there would be an empty spot at the adult's table.

It was only for this one time, but as the oldest at the children's table, Claire would move up and sit in the elderly aunt's spot.

Fighting back her disappointment, Claire asked. "Do you want me to take care of the baby?"

"That would be great," came the answer she dreaded. "I know Irene would appreciate the break."

In the bustle of helping prepare dinner for 30 people, Claire didn't have time to dwell on her disappointment. Her mother watched as Claire went about stirring the various pots boiling on the stove and basting the large turkey. Then smiled as Claire started humming the holiday tunes along with the old black radio on the windowsill.

As the men moved the heavy wooden picnic table into the kitchen, Claire's mood darkened. Her humming stopped. She loved the summer picnic table. For barbeque get-togethers with friends, it sagged in the middle with roasted corn and watermelon. But Claire hated the winter table used to sit all the "children." To her, the contrast between the detailed carved legs of the family's large oak table and the drab rough pine planks of the picnic one was just another way she didn't fit. She wasn't a child, but not an adult either.

 ~ ~ ~

You'll have to get the anthology to learn Claire's reward for being a dutiful daughter.

For myself, while I don't want to return to the girl who wanted to be an adult and found that meant being the hostess at the children's table, I plan to read the book again. In these hectic times, there are never enough happy-endings.

A Yuletide Wish - Available at Amazon.com  

The Sentry, #MFRWHook

Although my excerpts for the MFRW Book Hooks are usually romance, this week's book hook is a reprise of one taken from Hearth and Sand. Presented for your consideration are selected verses from the poem aptly titled, "The Sentry." Like the other stories in the collection that comprises Heart and Sand, "The Sentry" reflects a continuity of service from the past to the present. 

 

Although the poem pertains to a tomb of an unknown soldier, the inspiration for this piece did not come from the laying of a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia  or the toss of a wreath into the sea. Instead it was from solemn commemorations held in a small town to mark the one-year anniversary of 9-11-2001. The image of a sentry was a solitary bagpiper atop a hill. The flag was not draping a casket but hoisted from the extended ladder of a firetruck. A line of helmets atop empty boots symbolized the cost of duty.

Excerpt:

 

Eerie notes float across the field
A signal that day is done.
But not for me... not for me
I am the chosen one.

My task is simple
The command understood.
To stand my post
Here at the edge of the woods.

From each generation one soul is drawn
From among the honored dead.
No name is known, no one can mourn
He is a chosen one, a sentry for the dead.

And now I join them
An American soldier known but to God.
We came from desert, jungle, and field.

I am the latest of the lost.

**  END OF EXCERPT ***

For the rest of the poem, I hope you'll consider buying Hearth and Sand. Amazon     More Ebook Sellers 

The tales in Hearth and Sand cross genre from contemporary to historical, and science fiction to poetry and are a collection of twelve tales of those who served on the front lines and the stories of loved ones left behind who preserved the home front. Set universes apart and separated by decades in time, the stories reflect a continuity of service from the past to the present and into the world of tomorrow. Although the events are fictional, the voices captured within these pages came from historical notes, veterans’ own words, letters left by their ancestors, or contemporary events. Pen was put to paper while watching fighter planes land in the Philippine Islands and in the shaded woods of a stateside farm.


Buy Links: Amazon  More Ebook Sellers

This Veterans Day, thank a vet. For freedom isn't free. Thank you for your service.