Desmond moved gingerly through the quiet in the house as he had done now for months. Quiet and solitude filled all his time at home and even made his thoughts and feelings quiet and lonely. At times he viewed the silence of his home as a sanctuary, at other times a prison.
The flock of female guests had calmed down over the last months. Most of his suitors had lost their patience with his indifference, and the remaining few came by no more than once a week for but a couple minutes to drop off their gifts of food.
Desmond had taken to writing down his thoughts into a daily journal. He took this diary with him where ever he went and even used it as a reference book when he talked with Carl and Pat. Carl was fond of saying, “a reading from the book of Desmond”, when he opened it in the middle of one of their conversations.
On most evenings Desmond would spend his time reading and thinking until the wee hours of morning. Most of his adult life Desmond had slept a full eight hours each night. Yet, shortly after Rachel’s departure Desmond found he only needed five or six hours of sleep to feel refreshed and revitalized.
In an odd way Desmond felt his life was more efficient than ever. The stillness which remained with him throughout the day made each day seem longer than it used to. Hardly a day ever passed in which Desmond did not experience a personal revelation, or stumble across a new thought regarding human nature. A hermit’s life suited Desmond just fine, if it wasn’t for the fact that he missed his family.
The concept which dominated Desmond’s personal struggle for happiness and contentment was acceptance. He felt all the unnecessary pain in his life came from his unwillingness to accept life on its own terms. His moments of anguish and discontent were when he refused to accept his life situation. Desmond felt it unrealistic to desire never to be sad, but he did think it unnecessary to become angry or depressed.
Long periods of melancholy and depression, Desmond decided, were caused when a person refused to accept their life. A person became disappointed in themselves and others when life did not live up to their ideals or expectations.
Desmond felt he had made great strides in accepting Andrew’s death. Most of his memories of Andrew were fond ones filling his heart with pride and joy. Even the sad memories were bittersweet and not mired in expectations. He missed Andrew and wished he could see him again, but Andrew’s death did not halt his life.
In fact, Desmond felt Andrew’s death actually guided and assisted him in his quest for happiness. The memory of Andrew made him more understanding and appreciative of children, and more open to the simple pleasures of life. Instead of cutting it off, he found the memory of Andrew helped unfold his life.
Early this morning, Desmond had gone downstairs to look through the many boxes stored away in the basement. Each box was filled with old family belongings and mementos from the past. He spent hours pouring over the contents of each and every carton. He found everything from Rebecca’s report cards, to an old shoe box filled with his earliest love letters to Rachel.
The hardest thing Desmond found for him to accept was that these boxes were filled with the past. He hadn’t seen Rebecca or Rachel in over three months, but still could not fully accept they would not return. Even in his darkest moments the first few weeks after Rachel left he never envisioned her staying away so long. Yet, while looking at the past Desmond realized he had to accept the likelihood his family might never again be the one contained in the boxes.
During the first month or so of their separation Desmond fantasized how their marriage would come together even stronger than it had been before their break-up. Lately, Desmond had begun to allow himself to consider other (more realistic) alternatives. He knew he wasn’t the same person he was when she left and assumed it was only natural she had likewise changed and grown. They had grown while they were apart, so, therefore, it was only natural that they had grown apart.
History was strong, the powerful emotions he felt while rummaging downstairs attested to this fact, but the present was stronger. What two people are is always more important than what they used to be.
He still continued to write Rachel letters, about one a week, but now doubted they were really talking to her. After all, how could they be? She had changed and no longer was the person he had in mind when he was writing. Even if she were to be reading his letters, Desmond often wondered if they wouldn’t now appear foreign and strange to her.
Outside the wind howled causing blown snow to sizzle against the house. More snow was falling on the already rolling white landscape and a faint glow shown in the early afternoon darkness produced by overcast skies. Desmond thoughts were still with his estranged family as he put on his boots and down jacket over assorted layers of clothing.
Desmond tried to make his current sadness a positive thing. He wanted the memories of the past to lift his soul, but instead he felt extremely empty. Here he was, alone on Christmas Eve, with a desire to see no one but Rachel and Rebecca. He had been invited many places, but home is where he had always spent Christmas Eve. He decided he would rather be alone than lonely with others.
When not downstairs, he had spent most of his time trying to compose another letter to send to Rachel and Rebecca. He had ripped up many feeble attempts and had broken down and cried on two or three occasions.
The Christmas season was taking its toll on Desmond making him bitter sometimes and leaving him lost most of the time. Desmond was becoming obsessed with the break-up of his family. Even the gains made in accepting Andrew’s death were falling apart.
Last week he even went shopping for a present for Andrew. Though he knew better he couldn’t prevent himself from buying a number of gifts, which he later anonymously gave away to needy children. His work with the school children even became painful and emotionally exhausting. On a couple of occasions his growing sadness made it necessary for him to excuse himself during a pageant rehearsal and he even started calling some of the younger children Andrew by mistake.
One of Desmond’s lowest points came when a teacher pulled him off to the side and begged him to go home early so that the rehearsal could continue to be productive. Events such as these clearly made acceptance an important goal for Desmond. His difficulty of late regarding Andrew was a relatively small problem compared to the one he was having dealing with Rachel’s extended departure.
Ready to enter the blustery afternoon, Desmond slung some skates over his shoulder and ducked his head to burrow his way through the gust of wind greeting him as he opened the door. As soon as he made the turn around the house the winds pushed him towards the back yard. Stopping a brief moment to pick up a snow shovel, Desmond made his way to the pond.
The howling wind made it seem colder than it was, and Desmond was surprised at how warm it was when the winds subsided. The winds, though strong, were intermittent. Snow fell at a slow, peaceful pace when there was no wind. A charming almost magical stillness filled the air during these reprieves. Yet, when the wind blew it was if someone was vigorously shaking one of those winter landscape paperweights. Snow swirled about in a ferocious and blinding chaos making Desmond feel temporarily disoriented.
About halfway to the pond, Desmond paused and looked around at the stark beauty of the winter landscape. The beauty of the snow covered branches framed his view of the house. The light he left on in the living room made the house seem so warm and safe. Such an image harbored every ideal Desmond cherished in a home. It was secure and majestic and a most comforting ending to any journey. A strong gust of wind made Desmond turn away, but the warm image lingered as walked on.
The powdery snow allowed Desmond to walk on in almost complete silence. Only the wind and the rhythm of his breathing broke the stillness, even his steps into the deeper drifted snow remained quiet. Thoughts once again came to him as he slowly ambled along.
The last week had been one of the hardest Desmond could ever recall having to endure. First, he was deeply saddened when he realized that he would be spending Christmas without his family. Memories of Andrew immediately intensified, rendering him a blubbering and incompetent fool.
Just when he thought he could accept his family problems, he was invited to a meeting of the church Board of Governors. There he was stiffly informed that a permanent replacement had been found. This bad news was compounded by the expectation that he begin training the new pastor the day after Christmas.
He was introduced to the young Rev. Coleman at the end of the board meeting. Though a nice and sincere young man, Desmond found it impossible to look forward to the task of training him.
What Desmond found most shocking wasn’t that a new pastor had been found, but his reaction to the announcement. Up until the meeting, Desmond truly believed he would not mind being relieved of his pastoral duties. Many times over the last few months he had fantasized starting new occupations, and even imagined feeling a sense of relief when the announcement came.
With everything going wrong with his life, Desmond was more than a little pleased to see the majority of the pond free of snow. Wiping the snow off of his favorite wood chair near the pond, Desmond set down the skates and began shoveling.
Instead of feeling relieved or excited by the prospect of a life change, Desmond only experienced a great sense of loss. No matter how new and refreshing any other job might be, he would still miss being a pastor. Desmond loved everything about being the pastor at First Christian. He loved the town, he loved the people and he loved helping people.
He knew he didn’t have to be a pastor in order to help people and live in town. Yet, the attraction to being pastor was so much more than those things. Desmond enjoyed the freedom of his position. Though he worked a great number of hours and stayed busy, he was free to set the majority of his own schedule. He was essentially his own boss, free to do what he wanted when he wanted. Desmond could not imagine acquiring another job offering half as many options.
Desmond could not think of another occupation allowing him to schedule so much of his time helping out in the fields, or in the building of a new house or barn. What other job would allow him an opportunity to help people in so many ways? As pastor Desmond was able to console the lonely, comfort the sick, counsel the guilt ridden, provide guidance for those confused, encourage and support the young, and give his time and labor to all those in need of any form of assistance.
The prospect of becoming a pastor in another town did little to mitigate Desmond’s sense of loss. Desmond wasn’t just a pastor of a church, he was pastor of First Christian Community Church. This was his town, and these were his friends. Twenty years of his life were steeped in every inch of the community. Every fond memory and every meaningful event of his adult life took place in the people and landscape which had surrounded and grown with him through these many years.
The possibility of holding service at another church did not appeal to Desmond. In his mind Desmond likened it to the thought of making love to a woman besides Rachel. Stripped of history any other woman would just be a body, and any church other than First Christian would just be another building. He knew every inch of First Christian and had emptied himself into its care and maintenance. Rachel often teased Desmond by commenting on how even blindfolded he could tell if someone moved or changed a single item in his church.
This small town contained all the meaning Desmond found in life. The value of his life consisted of his friends, his history, his family and his church. The thought of leaving the area was tantamount to dying and being born again. Though he did not fear death, Desmond had no desire to start his life all over again.
One of the things Desmond most despised in his father was the importance he placed on social position and the power and superficial respect which come with it. This made it difficult for Desmond to admit to himself one of his main reasons for not wanting to change occupations. Desmond liked the respect and influence of being a pastor and would sorely miss his privileged position in the community. Desmond could not imagine attaining any other job in town which would garnish as much attention and esteem as his current position as pastor.
Though not proud of these feelings, Desmond knew he couldn’t just wish them away. When all was said and done, Desmond knew it would be terribly painful for him to leave his current position. It had been his ideal and the center of all his feelings of professional and personal accomplishment for his entire adult life.
The scraping of the shovel along the ice was such a familiar sound for Desmond, drawing his attention to past winters. Desmond taught Rebecca how to ice skate shortly after she had learned to walk. Neither of them ever became very good skaters, but it was a ritual which bound them together.
Without fail, a few times each year Desmond and Rebecca would come out to the pond and skate the afternoon away. They would horse around and laugh more than they would actually skate, often falling down when attempting a maneuver far above their skill. Yet, for all the playfulness, it was a time both admired each other for their grace and overall athletic fitness. It was a time for each to appreciate the passing of the years and the changes it had brought. It was also a time when they took stock in the specialness of their relationship and the importance it held in their lives.
Rachel, knowing the role it served, never intruded upon their ritual. She seldom ever skated, and likewise, skated alone with Desmond. On those brittle afternoons when Desmond skated with his daughter, Rachel remained indoors preparing hot cider or cocoa, and some other special treat to greet their return.
Putting on his skates, Desmond marveled, at the silent communication of his little family. Rachel never had to be told to stay inside, just as Desmond never had to be told to leave the room when they started to decorate the tree. Decorating the tree was a bonding time for Rachel and Rebecca similar to Desmond and Rebecca’s skating ritual. Once he chopped the tree down and placed it in its holder, Desmond would disappear until they were ready for the angel to be placed on top of the fully decorated tree.
Without a decision ever being made, or even a word said, the Proutys fostered a number of cherished family traditions. Though many family traditions included all three together, a number of rituals involved only two family members at a time. Such separate moments shared between individuals were not created by interests or sexual roles, but rather silently accepted and repeated.
Each person just seemed to sense and respect the special moments they had with each other. Rebecca, too, even at a very young age seemed intuitively to know when to vanish and allow her parents time alone. Though the Proutys had such rites for every season, the Christmas season seemed to harbor the warmest and most intense rituals.
Skating swiftly Desmond gave himself over to the myriad of sensations such activity fosters on a cold winter’s afternoon. His cheeks were numb, cold and warm all at the same moment. Varying mixtures of heat and cold radiated from almost every muscle of his body as he glided over the ice. He felt young then old as deep breaths filled his lungs and reached deep down into his waist. Though completely alone, Desmond found it impossible not to laugh out loud when he jumped into the air or fell onto the ground. Desmond even clapped his mittened hands together when he landed upon one skate successfully completing a full twirl.
Filled with the joy and exhilaration of strenuous activity Desmond remained in constant movement. His heart pounded and each breath he took was long and deep. The wind whipped against his cheeks which were bristling with energy just below their cold numb surface. Pushing himself towards total exhaustion Desmond could not remember the last time his body felt so free, so alive.
His tingling body fell away into its own world. The motion all around seemed to cease as he now felt himself float not glide across the ice. With a sense of total hedonism he completely gave himself over to every sensation of his body.
Without even realizing it his body gravitated towards memories of immense pleasure. With his eyes closed he sensed Rachel’s body next to his and felt the rapture of being inside of her. He felt her warm breath on his neck, and her arms wrapped around his back. Closing his eyes he made love to Rachel. He felt her soft moist body pressed against his, and watched her back arch in ecstasy. He felt his own body tighten in expectation and loosen with every caress. Every sense was locked in the experience of making love. Though physically on the pond, he was now in the bedroom. Rachel was available to every one of his sensations, he could hear, touch, smell, see and even taste her. He whirled about the ice entangled in the caring arms of the love of his life.
When his body returned to the ice, his memories did too. Now his arms ached to lift Rebecca high into the air, just as they had done on so many afternoons like this one. He felt the weight of her in his arms and the lightness as he released her.
Opening his eyes he immediately lost all sensation of the past. Rachel and Rebecca disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. Closing his eyes, Desmond vainly tried to retrieve them. No matter how hard he tried he could not get them to return. He could still picture them, but all sensation was gone. He admonished himself a few moments for opening his eyes as he slowly made his way to the edge of the ice.
Though he could no longer feel them, he still could remember them. So, Desmond sat down on the old wood chair to remember and hopefully once again defeat the bleakness of this lonely holiday by conjuring up their spirits.
Reaching over Desmond picked up the extra pair of skates he had brought along. He had found the tiny little skates in one of the boxes he looked through this morning. They were Rebecca’s first skates. Holding the skates in his hands, Desmond could still remember her little feet poised as he got ready to put them on. Tears came to his eyes as he recalled the unsteadiness of her feet as he held her hands, and the electricity of her smile the first time she skated away from his arms.
These were the skates he had hoped would be Andrew’s first ones. He recalled asking Rachel where the skates were shortly after Andrew’s birth, and being excited to find out they still were in good condition. Rebecca, too, had asked about her old skates and was also glad to hear Andrew would be able to wear them.
Resting on the chair for a few minutes Desmond thought of past skating days with Rebecca and future ones missed with Andrew. He envisioned little Becky’s face superimposed on Andrew’s and tried to imagine his little grandson on the ice before him.
All the smiles were imaginary on this lonely Christmas eve. Desmond’s thoughts turned somber as he forced himself to deal with the present. He was alone, not only today, but maybe for a long time yet to come. His family was no longer together and showed no signs of reuniting.
“The time has come,” Desmond conceded to himself, “for me to move on.” A new year was approaching, and with it probably a new life. Desmond, though not excited by the prospect, knew he had to start to find new people to share his life with and to love. Though he would hold on to his memories forever, he needed his life to be more than a past, more than the mere recollection of past joy.
He couldn’t recall ever being as afraid of the future as he was this day. Even if he found new loves, he asked himself what would happen to the old. If he found someone new to love, would he still be able to communicate to Rebecca and Rachel?
He desperately wanted them to be a part of his life, in whatever fashion they were comfortable with, but he anguished over how fair that would be to a new lover. After all, he asked himself, how would he feel if he had a wife who continued to write to her old husband?
“Whatever happens will happen,” Desmond told himself. “I will never forget the past, but I refuse to become a foolish man who prefers the past over the present. Things take care of themselves and it is silly for me to set done rules for the future.”
“What makes me think I’m smarter today than I will be tomorrow,” Desmond scolded. “I need to trust myself and what will become of my life. If I would have been scared of the future and clung on to the past, I would never have found Rachel, Rebecca, Andrew or this parish full of life long friends.”
Ready or not, he realized, changes were coming. The day after tomorrow he would begin handing over his little parish to the young Rev. Coleman. Though knowing he could stay on as the church’s caretaker, Desmond doubted he could find happiness as just the maintenance man. Sooner of later, Rev. Coleman would start making changes in how the church was groomed and run. Changes Desmond was certain he’d find threatening if not totally resent.
Desmond took a moment to question his reasons for spending this holiday alone. Was the purpose of this vigil to hang on to the past, or to a dead tradition? Was his staying home an attempt to be loyal to his family, hide his loneliness from others, or was he just sulking? His answer to all these answers was no.
In a world of infinite possibilities Desmond still found himself content to wallow in the past. The pond was where he wanted to be, not for pity, but because it made him feel good. Sure he was sad, but it was a deep and full sorrow. It was the bittersweet sadness which lies at the heart of every man’s fond memories. Anywhere else today he was sure to feel empty, but here he felt at home and thankful for his life.
Still warm from his exercise, Desmond slipped back into his memories as comfortably as one does a soft old robe on a chilly night. There, until the romance of a hot glass of cocoa would call him in from the cold, Desmond sat thinking on this loneliest of Christmas eves.
Visited by memories of Rachel, Rebecca and Andrew, Desmond smiled and cried with an open heart. Tomorrow he would live in the present, yet this evening his soul belonged to the past.
Desmond went to bed fairly early that evening. Once in bed, he wondered what Rachel and Rebecca were doing this holiday. Though quite sure they were out, he preferred to imagine them both getting ready for bed. In his mind he saw them both reading near their beds the way they often did before going to sleep.
Turning off the light, Desmond clutched on to Rachel’s pillow imagining it was her. Lying on his side he draped his arms around her pillow and soon fell sound asleep. Desmond spent most of the night writing dream letters to Rachel and Rebecca. Letters which, unlike the ones he wrote when awake, successfully reunited his family.