{ 2 }
Where do you go when you’ve never been anywhere?
Sandy did a Google search of ‘best places to spend Christmas.’ The consensus of all the sites and articles that popped up was that you go somewhere exotic, preferably hot and expensive. Taos, New Mexico, Florida, St. Miquel something or other in Mexico. She clicked through one spectacular locale after another. When she got to Tromslo, Norway, she gave up on Google. She wasn’t looking for an exotic vacation with cabanas and drinks in coconut shells, not was she desperate to fly thousands of miles to see the Northern Lights. She didn’t want to go anywhere where she needed to pack Imodium or get shots before leaving home.
All she wanted was a nice, safe place not too far from home where she could be waited on for a change. She wanted a hotel with room service and a good restaurant where a woman of a certain age eating alone on Christmas night would not raise eyebrows. There should be some nice places to walk. And, she decided, her getaway destination should not be listed on Google as a top Christmas holiday spot.
She looked at the postmarks of the mail coming through the Tarlo post office for ideas. And finally, one day, she saw it. The postmark read, Blossom Creek, Oregon. She made a sound: a sigh, a yip and a laugh all rolled uncomfortably into one choking cough that had Irv, the other postal attendant on duty, coming over to pat her on the back and ask if she was okay.
His pale blue eyes looked concerned behind the big black-framed glasses he wore ever since his wife had told him he looked like Martin Scorcese. He didn’t look like the movie director. He looked like a short, homely, near-sighted postal clerk. But he had dreams of leaving Tarlo and making a new start, even though he never did anything that would get him to his goals. She had a sneaking fondness for him. “I’m fine.” She showed him the envelope.
The concern she read on his face deepened. Obviously the dementia rumors had reached him. “It’s a Christmas card. Lot of folks getting them this time of year.”
She shook her head, impatient at how obtuse he was being. “Look at the postmark.”
He pulled the envelope closer and squinted. “Blossom Creek, Oregon.”
“Right. And that is where I will be spending Christmas.”
He pondered her words for a moment. “Probably aren’t a lot of blossoms this time of year.”
Maybe there wouldn’t be blossoms in December in Blossom Creek, Oregon. Sandy didn’t care. She looked the town up on her computer and discovered the destination fulfilled all her requirements. She could fly there in a couple of hours. There were several hotels and restaurants, parks and a good bus service.
Best of all, she would not spend the entire month of December cooking, planning, worrying and then exhausting herself on the 25th . She wouldn’t have to play peace keeper between siblings who should have got over sibling rivalry years ago. She wouldn’t have to remember which cousins were feuding and sit them far apart, or worry that Bill’s kids spent too much time on their electronic devices and were becoming antisocial, or that Karen’s daughter Ashley clearly hadn’t conquered the Bulimia. And, once the meal was over, she wouldn’t spend the next few days cleaning up and putting away. This year she was going to be a very selfish woman.
At times she almost lost her nerve, but every time she did, she’d see in her mind her son berating his wife until she yelled back at him, at which point Bill had thrown his napkin down and stormed out. She’d see a greasy turkey thigh sailing through the air like a poultry scud missile, as her second son launched it at their drunk cousin Brady, who wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t duck, so the grease and gravy soaked thigh had thwacked into her dining room curtains – requiring an expensive visit to the dry cleaners.
When her will weakened she forced herself to do something. Book her ticket. Book a hotel. Get directions by bus from the airport in Blossom Creek to her hotel.
Sandy bought and wrapped gifts for her seven grandchildren and mailed them from the post office.
Elspeth called her a few days before she was leaving and said, “I’d love to drive you to the airport, but you know what Bill’s like. If he found out he’d kill me.”
“I know, dear. It’s sweet of you to offer.”
Elspeth took a breath. “I hope you have a wonderful time. Merry Christmas.”
She worried about Elspeth, knowing her marriage wasn’t ideal, but then she worried about them all. “I’ll have my cell phone with me if you want to talk. Merry Christmas to you, too.”
Sandy decided to drive herself to the airport and leave her car there while she was away.
When she boarded the commuter jet on December 23rd she felt absurdly excited, and a little guilty, as though she were getting away with something scandalous. A grandmother leaving her own family at Christmas time. Imagine!
When she arrived in Blossom Creek she discovered it was quite a bit bigger a town than she’d imagined. It was really a suburb of Portland.
The sky was ominously gray and heavy and the air felt colder than at home. She huddled into her coat as she followed signs for the bus with her single rolling suitcase bouncing along behind her.
She passed a row of taxis but she felt as though she was already being ridiculously extravagant. She’d take the bus.
No sooner had the big, chugging bus pulled out of the airport and onto a highway that the snow started to fall. Big, serious flakes that meant business.
She sat up front near the bus driver who turned out to be a big, cheerful man who took her under his wing almost immediately after she asked him to make sure she got off at the right stop.
“Which stop you want?”
She consulted the directions she’d printed off the Internet. He shook his head. “This bus doesn’t stop there. Where you goin’?”
“The Blossom Flower Inn.” Okay, she’d booked it because the name struck her as so funny she couldn’t help herself.
“Never heard of it.” By this time the bus had been going for about twenty minutes. Most of the airport travelers had got off and locals were starting to get on. The driver raised his voice. “Anybody heard of The Blossom Flower Inn?”
There were murmurings and rumblings. A few passengers consulted each other. Finally, a voice from near the back of the bus yelled, “I think it’s out by Wanatchee Mall.”
The driver shook his head and looked at her with concern. “That’s not good. This bus doesn’t go anywhere near there.”
Anxiety prickled her skin. She was in a strange city where she knew no one, on a bus going nowhere near where she wanted to be, afternoon was closing in to evening and the snow was falling in thick, white curtains.
What had she done?
The bus driver caught her expression and winked. “Don’t worry. I ain’t going to leave you stranded somewhere. A nice lady like you. Just hang on tight.”
The next time the bus pulled over, the driver dug out his cell phone and placed a call. “Listen, Bud, I got a lady here who needs to go to the Blossom Flower Hotel. You know where that’s at?”
While Sandy listened to the one-sided conversation hopefully, she watched the snow flakes twirl and dance outside the bus’s front window.
Three vague shapes appeared at the door and the driver opened it to let them in. They were a straggly trio. Older men, each carrying a bag she suspected contained all their worldly belongings.
“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” the bus driver told her after he got off the phone. “We figured out what bus you need. We’re going to wait right here until your bus comes.”
“Oh, but I couldn’t—“
“Ma’am, there is no way I am leaving a nice lady like you to sit in the snow for a half hour.”
Sandy glanced around but the few people still on the bus seemed okay with it. The three newcomers settled back to wait as though they did a lot of that.
One of them caught her eye. “I’m really sorry for any inconvenience,” she said to him.
“Don’t matter,” he said. “The shelter won’t open until nine o’clock tonight so we got some time to kill. Better in here than out there.”
It was strangely pleasant on the bus, with the motor rumbling to keep the heater going and snow falling all around so she felt as though she were in the middle of a bus shaped Christmas globe and somebody had given the thing a good shake.
“You in town visiting family for the holidays?” one of the trio asked her.
“No,” she said. “I’m alone.”
“Not good to be alone at Christmas,” another said. He looked as though he knew. Hard times radiated from his weather-beaten face.
“You should come with us to the shelter.” He looked at his two companions and they both nodded. “They do a real nice dinner there. Turkey and everything. Coffee. Pie. You can sit with us and then you won’t be alone.”
“Thank you so much,” she said, in real gratitude. “But I am going to have dinner in my hotel.”
“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us.” They chatted to her for the rest of the time she spent on the bus. They’d all experienced hardship but none of them dwelled. This was their life and they lived it as best they could.
Her three wise men turned out to be homeless men. But their gifts were as valuable as gold, frankincense and myrrh. More, probably, since she didn’t even know what the last two were. They gave her acceptance, offered friendship to a stranger, and made her feel valued simply for listening to them.
After a while, a second bus pulled up behind them. “That’s your ride, ma’am,” her bus driver said.
“Thank you,” she said. She put out her hand to the driver. “And Merry Christmas.”
He shook her hand heartily. “Merry Christmas to you, too. I hope they treat you real nice at the Blossom Flower Hotel.”
The second bus deposited her a block away from the hotel and she found herself in a surprisingly quiet part of town. There was a lit sign for the iHop, what looked like some kind of strip mall, and a low rise building that had to be her hotel.
She set off to trudge through about 3 inches of fresh snow, pulling her case behind her like a sled.
She hadn’t planned to stay in a place so remote but she comforted herself that at least she now knew where the bus stop was.