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Guest
Guest
It's Christmas eve here and I was miserable earlier. I had spent the day curled up in bed, reading a book and listening to the soulful vocals of Norah Jones covering Nina Simone. Simply put, thousands of miles from home, it just didn't feel like Christmas. My gift from my wife sat mockingly as it had for the last three weeks unopened on the top of my dresser and I was slowly waiting on the hands to change over past midnight so that I could finally open my only present this year. I was homesick and lonely.
And so it was, with a heavy heart that I swung open the door at the sound of knocking. I didn't want to answer, but my job requires that I be available. So, I opened it to find my 'battle buddy' standing in the hallway. “You got a package,” he said to me. I didn't exactly get my hopes up. I had been ordering books from Amazon.com for weeks, and was waiting on several to arrive. I was considering whether or not to even be bothered when he spoke up again this time letting me know that he had a taxi on the way.
“Fuck it, lemme get my shoes,” I replied. We recently moved barracks, while they renovate our old ones. This meant that the unit was over a mile away. I didn't exactly want to waste a trip on this day for nothing. I slipped on my Vans and grabbed a coat, heading out into the evening air and hoping I wasn't picking up yet another book on religion. That would be irony, an atheist getting a book on Christ the day before his commercialized birth.
The taxi ride was mercifully quick and cheap, depositing the four of us (two soldiers had hopped in at the last moment) in front of the Staff Duty building, where our mail room is. I walked in and found myself face to face with our unit mail clerk. She repeated my battle buddy's words to me and said, “Sergeant, you got a package. Kinda big, too.” I thought about getting angry, and quickly decided against it. Not like she actually wanted to do anything with me anyway. This was just her way of trying to find some humor on this shitty day.
Behind her was a package that had her name stenciled on the side, the lid crushed in. I replied quickly, “Not like your box is anything to talk about, all beat up by random strangers and shit.” Score one for age, that was quick. She blushed and handed me a large brown parcel. This wasn't from Amazon. This was from my cousin. A brief list of the contents read “coffee and cookies”. My spirits were instantly lifted. I barely even noticed the taxi ride back.
Walking briskly to the barracks room, I grabbed the scissors from the drawer under the sink. Opening the box allowed me to see a plethora of styrofoam peanuts. What was inside? Was it coffee and cookies as the label said? Or, was it instead gifts that she didn't want to list for fear of theft? I plunged my hand into the pool of foam feeling no resistance as it sank to the bottom. Was there anything inside? I swirled my hand around to find that everything had shifted over into a corner. My hand touched plastic.
Pulling it out, I found half a pound of “Foglifter” coffee from Bent on Coffee. My heart soared. Liesa knew me better than she let on. Or, she had been talking to my wife. Another dip into the box produced a tin of homemade chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies. Digging peanuts out to make sure I didn't lose the card revealed a second tin of cookies. These were cream cheese drops and frosted sugar cookies, all home made. The tins were covered in hand-painted snowflakes and reindeer. It was obvious that she tried very hard to make sure they were perfect. She succeeded.
Finally, the card. I had to dump the peanuts on the floor to find it. It read simply this:
Paul,
We miss you, and I wanted to send you something. I made them myself (no, they're not poisoned). Come home safe.
Love,
Liesa
And so I sit here, gladdened and with a cup of coffee in my hand wishing you all a merry Christmas. I would have been miserable if I had followed my first instinct and let ennui rule my evening. The peanuts are still on the floor, and I, thousands of miles from home have finally gotten holiday cheer mere hours before Christmas hits. I hope that your Christmases allow you to rediscover the joy of the simple things in life. For the rest of this evening, I shall be comforted and content, no longer feeling forgotten in this little corner of the world. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays or Season's Greetings to you all.
~Paul
And so it was, with a heavy heart that I swung open the door at the sound of knocking. I didn't want to answer, but my job requires that I be available. So, I opened it to find my 'battle buddy' standing in the hallway. “You got a package,” he said to me. I didn't exactly get my hopes up. I had been ordering books from Amazon.com for weeks, and was waiting on several to arrive. I was considering whether or not to even be bothered when he spoke up again this time letting me know that he had a taxi on the way.
“Fuck it, lemme get my shoes,” I replied. We recently moved barracks, while they renovate our old ones. This meant that the unit was over a mile away. I didn't exactly want to waste a trip on this day for nothing. I slipped on my Vans and grabbed a coat, heading out into the evening air and hoping I wasn't picking up yet another book on religion. That would be irony, an atheist getting a book on Christ the day before his commercialized birth.
The taxi ride was mercifully quick and cheap, depositing the four of us (two soldiers had hopped in at the last moment) in front of the Staff Duty building, where our mail room is. I walked in and found myself face to face with our unit mail clerk. She repeated my battle buddy's words to me and said, “Sergeant, you got a package. Kinda big, too.” I thought about getting angry, and quickly decided against it. Not like she actually wanted to do anything with me anyway. This was just her way of trying to find some humor on this shitty day.
Behind her was a package that had her name stenciled on the side, the lid crushed in. I replied quickly, “Not like your box is anything to talk about, all beat up by random strangers and shit.” Score one for age, that was quick. She blushed and handed me a large brown parcel. This wasn't from Amazon. This was from my cousin. A brief list of the contents read “coffee and cookies”. My spirits were instantly lifted. I barely even noticed the taxi ride back.
Walking briskly to the barracks room, I grabbed the scissors from the drawer under the sink. Opening the box allowed me to see a plethora of styrofoam peanuts. What was inside? Was it coffee and cookies as the label said? Or, was it instead gifts that she didn't want to list for fear of theft? I plunged my hand into the pool of foam feeling no resistance as it sank to the bottom. Was there anything inside? I swirled my hand around to find that everything had shifted over into a corner. My hand touched plastic.
Pulling it out, I found half a pound of “Foglifter” coffee from Bent on Coffee. My heart soared. Liesa knew me better than she let on. Or, she had been talking to my wife. Another dip into the box produced a tin of homemade chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies. Digging peanuts out to make sure I didn't lose the card revealed a second tin of cookies. These were cream cheese drops and frosted sugar cookies, all home made. The tins were covered in hand-painted snowflakes and reindeer. It was obvious that she tried very hard to make sure they were perfect. She succeeded.
Finally, the card. I had to dump the peanuts on the floor to find it. It read simply this:
Paul,
We miss you, and I wanted to send you something. I made them myself (no, they're not poisoned). Come home safe.
Love,
Liesa
And so I sit here, gladdened and with a cup of coffee in my hand wishing you all a merry Christmas. I would have been miserable if I had followed my first instinct and let ennui rule my evening. The peanuts are still on the floor, and I, thousands of miles from home have finally gotten holiday cheer mere hours before Christmas hits. I hope that your Christmases allow you to rediscover the joy of the simple things in life. For the rest of this evening, I shall be comforted and content, no longer feeling forgotten in this little corner of the world. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays or Season's Greetings to you all.
~Paul
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