Rural Living

Margo Oxendine

I love the anticipation of finding the perfect gift for someone, and then watching them open it. (It’s the wrapping that doesn’t make me the least bit happy. But that’s another column I think I’ve already written!)

Here it is again: the season for giving! And often, it’s those gifts we find and give to others that make us most happy, isn’t it?

There are a couple of unforgettable gift-giving occasions in my history. The most memorable is the first Christmas my sister Kathy and I spent without Mom. She had died, rather suddenly, that past Sept. 15. We wondered how we’d get through Christmas without her. I weep now, just to think of it.

While we may not have been prepared for Mom’s passing, I feel she somehow knew. She had purchased Christmas gifts for each of us that past August. We certainly knew nothing about it — who is thinking of Christmas in August? Well, that would have been our mother, Dottie McCollum.

Not only had Mom ordered our gifts, she had wrapped them. In Christmas paper. And stashed them in her closet. When the closet was being cleared after her death, my sister found them. She set them aside, telling me nothing about it.

Imagine my surprise on that sad Christmas morning to find wrapped gifts under the tree, the little cards written out in Mom’s hand. They were simple, everyday things — sweaters and turtlenecks. But oh, how I treasure them to this day. I may never wear a certain sweater, yet every time I pass it by in my closet, I think of that Christmas morning. And smile at the wonder of that day.

My mother was a sunny, cheerful person whom everyone loved. She never had an unkind word to say about anyone. All those who knew her felt fondly about her. Visitation at the funeral home on that surreal night was testament to that.

Even her old Girl Scouts — now grown with children and grandchildren of their own — showed up to pay their glowing respects.

I remember one afternoon I came home to find Mom crying at the kitchen table. This was most unusual; in fact, it had never happened. I rushed to her and asked what was wrong.

“I’ve done a silly thing,” she said. “I bought bonds for you two girls a few months ago, and now I can’t remember where I put them. I’ve looked for days, and can’t find them anywhere.” She burst into tears again.

“Don’t worry; you’ll come across them,” I said.

Well, Mom never found those bonds.

But, when my sister was wrapping Christmas presents later that year, she got out a gift box that has been passed around our family for more than 30 years. It’s an odd, flat box; the top is red and green and gold plaid. Every year, someone got something inside that box. Every year, it was carefully stored with the Christmas stuff again.

When Kathy opened the box, nestled inside were four $2,000 bonds. My sister is rarely one to cry, but she burst into tears. And didn’t tell me a thing about it.

So, that Christmas we both so dreaded without Mom turned into something miraculous, where she was certainly present in all her goodness of spirit. Neither of us will ever forget it; in fact, we mention it in wonder every Christmas morning. “Remember that Christmas when ... ”

My sister retired early this past Aug. 31. It was time.

Being pleasant and accommodating to hundreds of strangers, while you create their omelets at The Homestead every morning for more than 30 years, can take its toll on anyone.

Months before, I’d bought two funny retirement cards. And two cards for her Aug. 24 birthday. She was going to have an exciting week!

When that week arrived, I went to the “gift closet” to get everything together. There were no cards. I knew darn well I’d put them in there. But no. All I could find was one silly “Get Fuzzy” book of cartoons. (We both adore that cat and dog.) Finally, I simply wrapped up “Get Fuzzy” and gave it to her with an apology about not finding the cards anywhere.

A few days later, the mystery was solved. All the cards were stashed inside the book! Kathy said to me, “You’re getting more like Mom every day!” We laughed. And I just wished it might be true.