My Christmas Gift

Christmas came a day late for me this year. The thrill of anticipation, counting down days, and getting details set up just right for the expected visitor. My visitor was a 60-some year-old jolly man with white hair, fantastic hugs, obscene humor, occupation as a children's hospital chaplain, and my former bridesmaid. He and his wife were traveling on the East coast for Christmas visiting family when they decided to invest in the journey of traveling to Boston. They did so just for the sole purpose of seeing me. It was exquisite delight.

These two have become integral parts of my chosen family. Michael has guided me through terrible breakups, family drama, love drunkenness with my husband, and work mishaps. I advised him through marital issues, adult children antics, work challenges, and personal discovery. I didn't know if I liked him when I first met him almost 9 years ago. He was ambitious, happy, extroverted, and reflective. It only took me a few months to discover how similar we were. In many ways we mirrored our desired characteristics and our personal flaws. We navigated a very close friendship despite the 30 year difference. One of my favorite memories was during the rehearsal for my wedding Michael blurted out to the Priest, "Are we going to sing the song, 'I gave her a ring and she gave me the finger?'" While I thought my MIL was going to faint, while laughing I said a silent prayer of thanks that Michael and Father Stan were good friends.

When J would come into town we made a point of having dinner with Michael and his wife. We made dinner a few times and went over to their house as well. One thing was for certain: Scotch was always involved. The man was a connoisseur. He would host tastings by donning a kilt, educating the masses about regions of Scotland and the people who made each brand whilst describing the nose and the flavors left on stinging palates. This visit was no exception. Talisker 18 from the Isle of Skye flowed freely.

It was their 26th anniversary on December 26th and we were their invited guests for the celebration. I took an excruciating taxi ride downtown to the Union Club. They were staying in the 1863 establishment, originally designed to be a place of strategy during the Civil War. Its opulence and elegance was everything I could have imagined for it was on Boston Common, steps away from the Massachusetts State House. We talked and shared the liquid gold while J rushed from the hospital to meet us. A short walk to Winter Street and we entered Locke-Ober, a historic restaurant filled with dark mahogany corners, crystal stemware, brass railed bars, lush ruby carpet, and waiters in bow ties. We dined on Lobster Savannah, French white burgundy, bisque, and Caesar salad with fresh anchovies. Michael out did us all with the Baked Alaska. He also pocketed the cork to write down the occasion and date as a concrete reminder of great memories. Another shared quirk that was discovered. It was unseasonably warm for a Boston December night, but J offered Susan his coat for the walk back.

The following night I wanted to host them to dinner at our house. Its a tricky prospect given my recent surgery and unreasonable restrictions. But I was determined even if it meant defrosting soup my Mom made, throwing a salad together, but serving it with linen napkins by candlelight. It was our elegant invalid dinner party complete with a flannel pajama wearing hostess on pain killers and the others with colds. Susan was out for the count with her cold in full force, but Michael caught a ride with J after work. We finished off the small bottle of Talisker and opened a bottle of our collected wine selection (now we both have a cork). Alas the dinner ended early as we were all worried about Susan. I kept my tears in until the door shut as I do with all my good-byes.