Friday, December 25, 2006

When Sam woke up he lay very still his bed listening.  It wasn’t a particular sound that he was hearing but rather a lack of sound.  There was a hush in the room that he couldn’t quite place.  It was still quite early, too early to be getting out of bed he decided.  After all, he reasoned, what was wrong with sleeping in on Christmas day.  He snuggled back down into his pillows and let his eyes drift shut.  He didn’t stay that way for long before he pushed himself up.  No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t sleep in.

Climbing out of bed, he pulled up the shades over the windows behind his bed and the answer to the hushed sound revealed itself.  During the night, the light snow had grown heavier blanketing everything in a layer of white that seemed to absorb sound and create peacefulness.  The clouds that had brought the snow had already cleared out and the sun was just rising.  Sam caught his breath as the field of snow outside of his window was painted in shades of pinks and golds as the light of the rising sun touched it.

He went into his closet and pulled on a pair of boots and then his heavy terrycloth robe.  Pushing open the sliding door in the sitting area, he stepped out on the fresh, unbroken snow that crunched softly beneath his feet.  He breathed in deeply of the fresh, cold air and looked out at the magnificence of the golden sunrise.  Words escaped him to describe the majesty of the morning and he breathed out a low “oh boy.”

He longed go back and in the house and wake his mother and Al so that they could join him in partaking of the glory of nature but he knew if he did by the time they made it back outside it would be too late.  He stood in silence as the sun completed its breach of the horizon.  When he began to feel light-headed, he drew in a deep breath, only then realizing he’d been holding his breath at the scene he’d witnessed.  With the sun now up, the world around him lost the glory and majesty that the rays of the rising sun had painted them with and became again simple fields of white snow.

With the return of normalcy, Sam felt the cold of the day more fiercely than he had when he’d first walked out the door and hurried back into the warmth of his bedroom.  He toed off his boots leaving them by the door to dry and returned his robe to the hook on the back of the bathroom door.  He slipped silently from his bedroom with the intent of having a pot of coffee ready by the time Al and his mother were up.

When he arrived in the kitchen, he wasn’t surprised to see that his mother was already up and just finishing turning on the coffeemaker.  He knew it would have been a long shot, at best, that he’d beat her to it.

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” he greeted her wrapping her in a hug from behind.

“Merry Christmas, Sweetie,” she returned lifting her face for the kiss Sam dropped down on her cheek.  “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” he cheerfully answered.

“Well, you’re certainly chipper this morning.”

“I was outside watching the sunrise.  It was amazing.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen one that beautiful.”  His smiled turned dreamy as he was still caught up in the magic of the sunrise.

“You were outside without a coat?” Thelma questioned with an arched eyebrow.

“I came in as soon as I was cold.”

Thelma ruffled his hair affectionately.  “I’m sure you did.”

“It sure was something to see.  I wanted to get you and Al but knew it would be done by the time we got back outside.”

“I was able to see it through the window here.  It was pretty spectacular,” Thelma agreed.  “Speaking of Al, I’m going to assume he likes to sleep in.”

“If he can, you bet.”  Sam smiled ruefully remembering the rather rude and painful greeting he got last time he attempted to wake Al early.  “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t try to wake him up before he’d ready.  It’s kind of like getting a bear out of hibernation before spring.”

“Hey, who you calling a bear?” Al asked coming up behind Sam.  He had managed to slip quietly into the room without mother or son being aware of his presence.

“You,” Sam said turning around to face Al.  “You’re not exactly pleasant when you get woken up.”

“Yeah, well, I need my beauty sleep, you know.”

“Because it’s Christmas, I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” Sam answered with an innocent smile.  “So, now that we’re all up do we get to open presents?”

“Are you sure you’re 34 and not 4?” Al asked.

“He was always like this,” Thelma informed Al.  “Every year as soon as he realized what Christmas was all about he’d be the first one out of bed and waking everyone else up.  Today just might be the first day that I actually made it out of bed before him.”

“Well, if it’s all the same to you, Kid, I’d rather have a cup of coffee first.”

“That’s sounds like a splendid idea,” Thelma said as she started to pour from the freshly brewed pot.

Sam managed to get through the time it took them to drink their coffee with a minimum of agitation.  As soon as the last cup was drained, he was off like a shot to the living room.

“We better go with him,” Al commented dryly.  “He’s liable to open up everything if we leave him alone for too long.”

Sam was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the same spot that he’d been in the previous night.  He’d turned on the lights on the tree and it glowed cheerfully.  Al and Thelma both resumed the same seats they’d occupied the night before.  They took turns exchanging gifts, each having bought several for the others.  Some of the gifts were serious and some of them were clearly gag gifts.

Al had given Sam a CD copy of the music from “Man of LaMancha”.  “You got a lot of Don Quixote in you,” he’d said as Sam opened the gift. 

There’d been confusion when Sam and Al had both simultaneously opened similar boxes from Thelma.  They’d both tried to school their faces to delight at the sight of the sweaters carefully wrapped within each box but it had been difficult.  Sensing that the two of them were trying to put on a good face, Thelma looked carefully in each box before switching them around.  Sam breathed a sigh of relief with the knowledge that the simple, sky blue sweater was for him and the wildly patterned one had been meant for Al.

Sam had watched with shy anticipation when Al had opened the box with the bolo tie he’d bought.  He hadn’t been sure about it but something had told him that it was something Al would appreciate.  He’d been relieved when Al had expressed his delight in it.

Finally, they reached the last gifts.  As Thelma handed her last gift for Sam to him, she slipped down to sit by him on floor putting her arm around his shoulders.  Sensing the change in his mother’s demeanor, he carefully pulled the paper back from the gift instead of ripping it off as he had with the others.  Inside was a classically elegant frame but it wasn’t the frame that took his breath away but, rather, the photograph it contained.  “That’s Dad,” he whispered running his index finger over the face of his father.  “and….me?” he questioned looking to his mother for confirmation.

Thelma nodded her head in agreement.  “I took that when you were two years old.  You father was reading ‘The Call of the Wild’ to you.”

Sam’s brow knit in confusion as he again brushed his hand over the photo.  “How come I’ve never seen it before?”

“Because, I carry the original of it in my purse.  I have since the day it came back from being developed.  I had this copy of it made for you and framed it.  I thought it was something you’d like to keep.”

Sam nodded his head in agreement but wasn’t able to speak through the tears he could feel welling up.  Impatiently, he brushed them away and pulled Thelma in for a tight hug.  “Thank you, Mama,” he forced out in a strained voice.  He held onto her for dear life not wanting to let go.

Al picked the framed photograph up off of Sam’s lap to see it.  It was the photo he’d suspected.  He looked down at the old black and white photo and saw a man who looked so much like Sam sitting in a rocking chair.  In his lap was a small boy maybe two or three years old.  The child clutched a teddy bear in one hand and the thumb of the other hand was firmly in his mouth.  The wide eyes gazed with wonder at the book the older man held.  It was the same photo that Thelma had shown him when Sam had been in the hospital.

Eventually Sam released his mother.  “That’s my Dad,” he said as he brushed the tears from his eyes.

“You look just like him,” Al told him as he handed the picture back.

“You think?’ Sam questioned as he reverently took the picture back in his hands.

“Yeah, I do.”

“He’d be so proud of you, Sammy,” Thelma told him.  She pulled him into sideways embrace, his head falling on her shoulder.  She angled her face down to kiss him on the temple and rocked him slightly.  “So proud of you,” she repeated again.

Sam straightened up from his mother and reached under the tree for a small, neatly wrapped box.  Al recognized it as the one Sam had originally asked him to wrap for him.  Sam didn’t say anything, just held it out to his mother.

Thelma took the box from him, peeled off the wrapping paper and opened the small jeweler’s box within.  It contained an oval-shaped gold locket.  Flowers had been etched into the front of it.  Thelma lifted the delicate piece of jewelry from the box and unclasped it.  She gasped when she saw the pictures it contained, one hand flying up to cover her mouth.  “Oh, Sam,” she said before gathering him to her once again.

Al sat silently by not wanting to intrude on the moment.  Eventually, Thelma released Sam and he sat up from her.  “Where ever did you get the pictures?” she asked.

“When I got to MIT and opened my suitcase they were both there.  I always thought you put them in there for me.”

“No, not me,” Thelma denied.  “It must have been your father.”

Wordlessly, Sam climbed to his feet and disappeared into his bedroom.  He reappeared a few moments later.  In his hand he carried something wrapped in white cloth.  “That wasn’t all he put in there,” he said with a sad smile and handed the small bundle to Thelma.

The white cloth turned out to be a handkerchief with a monogrammed “B” in one corner.  “This is one of Daddy’s handkerchiefs,” Thelma said when she saw it.

Sam nodded his agreement.  “Open it up.”

Carefully Thelma folded back the folds of cloth.  Tucked inside was a small plastic bag that contained a handful of dirt.  Thelma fingered the bag and looked at Sam questioningly.

“The day before I left for Cambridge I went for a walk with Dad.  He put that dirt in my hand so I wouldn’t forget home and I put it in my suitcase so I could take a little bit of home with me to school.  When I unpacked, it was wrapped in Dad’s handkerchief and the two pictures were underneath it.  I always thought you’d done it.”

Thelma reverently folded the handkerchief back around the bag of soil and handed it back to Sam.  “You’re father might not have always had the words to tell us how he felt but he always made sure we knew.  You keep that in a safe place.”

Sam took the small bundle back, nodding his agreement with his mother’s words.  He again wordless got to his feet to return the bag of soil to its place in his room.  While he was out of the room, Thelma handed the locket to Al to see.  He’d sat as a silent witness their memories.

He took the locket from her and looked down at the two pictures.  On the left side there was photo of a young couple on their wedding day – both of them smiling at the lives they were just beginning.  There was no mistaking that the woman was a younger Thelma Beckett and the man bore a strong resemblance to Sam.  On the right was a photo of three children that Al guess was the Beckett children.  As he snapped the locket closed he caught sight of the engraving on the back of it.  It simply said, “I love you, Mama.  Sam.”

Al handed the locket to Sam when he came back in the room.  He took it and gently clasped it around his mother’s neck before again settling in his place on the floor.  He quickly grabbed the large box under the tree and pushed it into Al’s hands.  “I hope it’s something you can use…that you like,” he quickly said.

Curious, Al pulled the wrappings from the gift.  Inside was a humidor of rich mahogany.  A brass plaque secured to the center of the cover bore his initials in flowing script.  He lifted the lid on it noting how it smoothly rose on the polished brass piano hinges to reveal the cedar lined interior.  “Wow,” Al said as he gently put the cover back down and rubbed his hand over the smooth, glossy wood.  “You picked this out by yourself.”

Sam’s eyes were wide and serious as he nodded his head.

“This is great, Sam.  I don’t know what to say.”  Al knew how Sam felt about his smoking, how often he’d tried to convince him to give up the cigars.  That Sam would give him the humidor, despite those feelings, spoke volumes to Al.  He was under no illusion that this meant the kid would stop trying to talk him out of the habit but it meant that Sam accepted him for everything that he was.  It said a lot for their friendship and the man that Sam was.

“I’m glad you like,” Sam said softly.  “I wasn’t sure ...”

“Like it,” Al crowed, “this is one of the best gifts anyone’s ever given me.  Thank you.  Ok, it’s my turn now.”  He selected one of the remaining boxes from under the tree and handed it to Sam.  He didn’t bother to stifle his laughter as Sam ripped into the paper as any child on Christmas day would.

“Wow!” Sam said unconsciously echoing Al’s sentiment when the box was opened to reveal the sleek black watch.  “This is amazing, Al.”

“There’s in inscription on the back,” Al pointed out.

Sam pulled the watch from its box and turned it over to read what had been inscribed on the back – “time is fleeting – friends are forever”.  Sam handed the watch to his mother as for the second time that morning he found his voice choked off by tears.  He pulled Al into a hug which the older man heartily returned.

Thelma handed the watch back to Sam when he released Al and he carefully placed it back in its box.

“Well, I guess that just leave us,” Al said looking over to Thelma.  The two them started to argue over who was going to open their gift first.  Sam finally settled it by reaching under the tree for the last two gifts.  Reading the names on each, he handed one to Al and the other to Thelma.

“Open them together,” he said with finality.

They did as Sam bid, pulling the paper from the respective gifts at the same time.  When Al saw what Thelma had given him he began to laugh softly.  Looking down at her gift, Thelma also began to as well.

“What?  What’s so funny?” Sam asked obviously out of the loop of what was happening.

In answer, both of them turned the gifts so that Sam could what it was.  Looking from one to the other, he understood why they were laughing and joined in.  They had both given the other a framed picture.  The photo that Al held was of him and Sam and the one that Thelma held was of her and Sam.  Both of the photos had been taken at the restaurant they’d gone to in Durango to celebrate Sam’s release from the hospital.

When Al had retrieved the belongings they’d left on the mountain, one of the items was Sam’s 35mm camera.  They’d been surprised that it had still worked and it had found its way to the celebratory dinner.  With the backdrop of the breathtaking view of the Rockies the wide windows of the restaurant offered, they’d taken pictures together.  Al had made sure to send a copy of them to Thelma when he’d had them developed and they’d both hit on the idea of gifting each other with the framed photos.

“Well, you know what they say,” Al declared when the laughter ended.

“No, Al what do they say?” Sam deadpanned.

“Great minds think alike.”

With all of the gifts opened, they gathered all the torn wrapping paper into a pile and put it into a large green bag.  With the living room set to rights once more, Thelma sent the two men off to their respective rooms to get dressed for the day while she made them all breakfast.  When they returned to the kitchen, they were treated to her vanilla-flavored French toast that Sam informed Al was only ever made on Christmas morning.  As soon as breakfast was eaten and cleaned up, Thelma kicked them both out of the kitchen so that she could start preparations for their Christmas dinner.  “I don’t care what the two of you do,” she said as she pushed them out the door, “just stay out of the kitchen and don’t get underfoot.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” they both meekly promised allowing her to push them out.

While Thelma busied herself in the kitchen with dinner preparations, Sam and Al donned their coats to go outside for a walk.  Since they were outside of the walls of Sam’s house, Al felt comfortable drawing a cigar out of his breast pocket and lighting it up.  He took care, though, to keep it angled away from Sam so that he wouldn’t breathe in the smoke as well.

One of the advantages of where Sam’s house was located was that it was out, away from the town proper.  There were very few neighbors and they weren’t close by.  Despite the bright sun that shone down, the air still held an unusual chill to it.  The snow that fell during the night would probably last at least through Christmas day before melting away.

Sam and Al walked along through the unbroken snow.  They could have chosen to walk along the road where a plow had come by clearing away the snow but chose, instead, to break their own path.  Al estimated that there was about six inches of the white stuff that had fallen and it crunched softly under their shoes as the walked along it was the only sound heard as they walked along in silence.

Al had always admired Sam for his ability to know when to talk, when to listen, and when to let silence speak.  Some people might have felt the need to fill the silence of the day with endless chatter but not Sam.

They walked along in companionable silence that Al eventually broke.  “Was Christmas morning always like that when you were growing up,” he asked softly in deference to the silence around them.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked curiously.

“I mean all the presents and the big breakfast and stuff?  Was it like that all the time.”

Sam smiled ruefully and they walked several more paces before he stopped to face Al and answer him.  “Most times it was like that.  Mom and Dad always tried to make sure Santa was generous.  Some years it was tough for them but we never knew it at the time.  Whenever money was tight, they were really good at keeping it hidden from us.  It wasn't just all the presents that made it special.  It was being together and being a family.  I don’t think we ever really realized that until we didn’t have it anymore.”

Sam started to walk again, this time angling toward the road to walk through the plowed area.  “How about you?  What was it like for you?”

Al stuffed his hands in his pockets and put his head down out of the wind as the walked.  “Nothing like what you had as a kid.  The nuns would try to make sure there was a least one present for each one of us but it was hard for them.  They’d try to give us something special for dinner, too.  Otherwise, it was pretty much a day like any other.”  He let out a small laugh but there was no humor to it.  “You know, as much as Christmas sucked in the orphanage, sometimes I think it was better then when I was home.”

Sam stopped again and faced Al.  He put out his hand to touch the older man’s shoulder but instead dropped it down to his side.  “I wish there was some way to change all that for you, Al.  No kid should miss out on Christmas.  It’s just not right.”

Al didn’t show Sam’s hesitance and reached out a hand to squeeze the back of the younger man’s neck.  “Hey, this is supposed to be a day to be happy, not for you to feel bad because I had it tough as a kid.”  He shook Sam slightly when he got to reaction from him.  “Besides, you and your mom have done a hell of a job giving me all that this year.  It wouldn’t have meant anything any other year but this year…this year I have a family to be with so it means a whole lot.”

Sam raised his gaze from where he’d been studying his shoes.  A shy, half-smile quirked his lips. “Yeah, it is about family, isn’t it?”

Al slung a companionable arm around Sam’s shoulders leading him once more up the road.  “So what time’s dinner anyway?”

“It’s at two… always has been,” Sam answered leaning into the warmth provided by his friend as they walked.  He tried to suppress a shiver but wasn’t successful nor was he successful at suppressing the sneeze that burst from him.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to stay out here until then,” Al decided turning to head back to the house.  He could feel Sam shivering in the cold and the sneeze reminded him that the younger man wasn’t 100% healthy right now.  “We’ll build up the fire and sit around lazy until it’s time to eat.”

“Sounds like an idea,” Sam said eyeing the clouds he could see starting to build up on the horizon.  “Looks like we might be in for some more weather today.”

Al also eyed the clouds in the distance.  “Yeah, it does.  I thought snow in Socorro was supposed to be rare.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t come,” Sam answered and faster than Al would have thought possible, he slipped from under the arm around his shoulders and scooped a handful of snow up.  Patting it into a ball he threw it at Al and laughed merrily when it splattered across the shoulder of his coat.

“Oh, you think you’re funny, do ya?” Al questioned mock threateningly.  “I’ll have you know I was a champion snowballer when I was in the orphanage.  You’re in for it now.”

While Al bent down to scoop up snow, Sam started to run away from him hoping to dodge the snowy missile.  He wasn’t successful as it hit him on the back of the head.  The two spent the rest of the walk back to the house pelting each other with snowballs.

When they got back to the door of the house, they were both liberally sprinkled with snow.  Sam’s cheeks were a rosy red both from the cold and from the laughing and running around he’d done.  They were both still laughing merrily when they came in the house.

“Mom, we’re back,” Sam called out while letting Al help him from his coat and hang the two of them in the closet.

Thelma came to the door of the living room as they came in from the foyer.  “Whatever were the two of you doing out there?” she asked when she saw the state they were in.

“Just taking a walk,” Sam replied innocently while Al snickered softly behind him.

“I’m sure,” Thelma said not believing him for an instant.  “I thought you might be cold when you got back so I made you some hot chocolate.  I’ll bring it in.”

“You don’t have to, Mom, we can go get it.”

Thelma stood in the doorway, hands on hips, and blocked the way.  “I don’t remember telling you that you could go in that kitchen yet, did I?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Well then, the two of you go sit down and I’ll bring the hot chocolate in.”

They made themselves comfortable on the couches and waited for the promised hot chocolate.  The fire was still burning merrily in the fireplace and it helped to warm them.

Thelma brought in a tray with two mugs on it.  In each of the mugs a candy cane hung over the side.  A plate of the decorated Christmas cookies accompanied the mugs.  “You two just sit in here and drink this and warm up and I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”  She handed them each one of the warm mugs and then left the room.

“You sure she didn’t spend sometime in the Navy,” Al asked Sam after Thelma had left.

“Nope, but you’d think she did, wouldn’t you?”

The mugs of hot chocolate had been drained and the plate of cookies was empty except for a few stray crumbs.  Sam and Al had settled back watching one of the many college bowls games that would be filling the airwaves for the next week or so when Thelma came into the living room.  “Dinner will be ready shortly if you want to wash up and get changed,” she said before disappearing down the hall in the direction of her room.

“Changed?” Al asked looking over to Sam.

 “I think she means me,” Sam said getting up from the couch.  Al had chosen to dress in a deep maroon colored suite with an iridescent shirt of the same color under it.  A thin silver tie completed the look.  By comparison, Sam had on a well-worn pair of jeans and red and black plaid flannel shirt.  Though Al was certainly dressed for dinner, Sam was not.

While Sam went off to his room to change, Al continued to watch the game until he heard Sam calling to him from the bedroom.  Switching off the TV, he went to see what Sam needed.

When Al got in the room, he found Sam sitting on his bed.  He’d changed into a pair of charcoal gray dress pants and a white dress shirt.  In his hand he held a sweater a shade darker than his pants.  “I’m not having much luck with this by myself,” he said holding the sweater out to Al.  “You mind giving me a hand.”

Al took the sweater from Sam and looked at it dubiously.  “You sure about this?  Wouldn’t you be more comfortable without it?”

“It’s either that or help me get on a tie and I wear a jacket instead.”

Al neatly folded the sweater and put it on the end of the bed.  “I think you’re better off skipping the sweater and just wearing a tie and jacket instead.”  He went into Sam’s closet coming out with a tie and jacket that would match what he already had on.  Sam sat patiently on the bed while Al tied the tie for him, pulling the knot up snugly.  Once his jacket and sling were on and he deemed himself suitable to pass his mother’s inspection for Christmas dinner, he and Al made there way to the kitchen.

Thelma was already there when they arrived.  She’d changed into the same deep green dress she’d worn the night before.  The table was once more neatly set and again it took Sam by surprise.  “This is Grandma’s,” he said fingering the heavy cream-colored lace tablecloth.

“It is,” Thelma answered looking up from where she was putting the finishing touches on a serving dish.  “You’re sister sent it with me for us to use today.”

To Al’s unspoken question Sam ventured to explain, “This belonged to my grandmother – my father’s mother.  We’d use on the table every year at Christmas – Grandma’s tablecloth for Christmas and Nana’s for Thanksgiving.  It went to Katie when she passed away.”

“It looks old,” Al said sitting at his place.

“It is,” Thelma answered coming over to the table.  She put the serving platter with the roast beef she was carrying down in the center of the table.  It was surrounded by smaller bowls of vegetables.  “It originally belonged to John’s great-grandmother.  She passed it down to her granddaughter and then Nettie passed it down to Katie.  I expect someday day Katie will have a granddaughter to pass it down to.”  Thelma took her place between Al and Sam and reached out to take both of their hands.  “Will you say the blessing, Sam?” she asked.

Sam and Thelma bowed their heads.  Al, at first unsure, soon followed suit.

“Bless us, O Lord! and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord.”  At the end of the familiar prayer, Sam rushed out “Thank you for bringing us together at this table as family to share this day.”

“Amen.” Thelma intoned and Al echoed her is a lower voice.

Once the blessing had been said, Thelma pushed the platter with the roast toward Al.  “Normally I’d ask Sam to carve the roast since he is the man of the house but I think that would be a little tough for him so will you do us the honor.”

“It would be my honor,” he responded picking up the serving fork and carving knife.  Once he’d placed slices of the roast on their plates, they began to pass around the bowls of vegetables, each taking his or her share of them.

“Boy, this all looks and smells so good,” Al commented once he’d filled his plate.

“Well, there’s plenty here so don’t be shy,” Thelma told him.  “Sam, don’t tell me that’s all you’re going to eat.”

“No, Ma’am,” Sam responded seriously.  “This is just for starters.  You know how much I love your Christmas dinners.”

“So much for there being plenty,” Al quipped.  “If he’s starving like he usually is the two of us better hang on to what we have now or he’ll be taking that soon.”

Thelma laughed at the way Al teased Sam.  She could tell by the easy way they both exchanged the teasing banter that it was a part of their everyday lives and was as natural to them as breathing.  As the meal proceeded, they continued to tease each other back and forth while also exchanging their ideas for the future of the project.  They didn’t get into specifics because of the top-secret nature of it, but it was enough for Thelma to know that it would keep her son occupied and busy for a long time to come.  Somehow, that comforted her in an odd way because she knew that as long as they were both involved in the project Sam would have Al looking out for him and drawing him out into the world when he’d rather retreat into his labs.

As the meal neared its end, Al lifted up his glass of sparkling cider.  “I’d like to propose a toast,” he said.

Thelma and Sam put down their forks and picked up their glasses as well.

“I never really knew what it was like to have a real family Christmas.  Life always moved me away from any of that and I always thought I wasn’t missing much.  I’ve learned different this year, though.  This time life moved me in the direction of sharing this holiday with the two of you and you’ve taken me in as a member of the family.”  Al directed his attention to Thelma.  “Mrs. Beckett I know I haven’t been your first choice as a friend for your son.”  When Thelma opened her mouth to protest Al held up his hand and cut her off.  “Don’t deny it.  If I were in your shoes I wouldn’t have picked me either.  I thank you, though, for eventually accepting me as a part of Sam’s life.  Not only that, but for welcoming me into a part of your own life.  I never really had the experience of what a mother could be like; mine walked out when I was still young.  You’ve shown me what a good and kind mother is.”

Thelma brushed the tears from her eyes and leaned over to kiss Al on the cheek.  When she’d sat back, Al switched his attention to Sam.  “Sam, I really don’t know what to say, Kid.  You’ve given me so much more than I could have asked for – so much more than you probably should have.  You took a washed-up, drunken sailor and showed him what the real meaning of friendship is.  You’ve become the dearest friend I will ever have and the little brother I always wanted.”  Al raised his glass a little higher, his gaze taking in both Sam and Thelma.  “To family.”

“To family,” they echoed back before clinking their glasses together and drinking.

“That was beautiful, Al,” Thelma told him when they were done drinking.

Sam didn’t say anything right away looking down at his plate and running a fingertip along the edge of his glass.  When he did raise his gaze to Al, he spoke softly and from the heart.  “You may not know this, Al, but you’ve given me a lot more than I could ever give you.  You’ve taught me that it’s ok to care about someone, that that doesn’t mean they’re going to leave.”  He took a deep breath before forging on.  “You’re one of the few people who not only didn’t laugh at me when I told you my dreams but you believed in them…in me.  I don’t know if you know how much that means to me.  When everyone else wants to lock me up in a padded room with the rest of the Looney Tunes, you’re the one who’s stood by me and told the world that they’re wrong and I can make my dreams a reality.  Thank you for that.”

“Those aren’t just pipe dreams you have there, Kid.  I may not completely understand all that you sat and figured but I know it’s solid work you’ve done and with a little hard work we can make it a reality.  Besides,” Al continued, a twinkle in his eye, “how many times do I have to keep telling you, you’re not a Looney Tune.  You’re more of a Merry Melody.”

For just a moment, silence reigned around the table until first Sam and then Al and Thelma started to laugh.

“Who’s ready for dessert?” Thelma asked once the laughter had died down.

Both Sam and Al quickly answered in the affirmative and started to clear the table.  The three worked together until the table was cleared of their dinner and set for dessert.  Through it all they kept laughing, talking, and teasing each other.

Outside clouds moved in again to drop more of the rarely seen snow as the temperature dropped further.  For the three inside there was only the warmth of family and friends sharing a holiday and making memories to last.

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