I pumped my bike pedals as fast as I could up the hill. The anticipation of the belly flipping feeling of the coast from the top and down the other side was something I never tired of. If a person was unaware of this part of the woods, they’d be surprised by the drop. Upon reaching the crest, I was exhilarated to fly down, legs akimbo, looking like a girl in wingless flight. And fly I did, for about fifty feet. The feeling in my stomach was scary but wonderful all at the same time. I was happy not to see the usual puddle at the bottom of the hill. It had thankfully dried up in the July heat. Mom would be so angry if I got my new outfit full of mud. 

Ronda didn’t want to make her mother angry, not today, of all days. Actually, the bike ride was just a delay tactic. She didn’t want to go home. 

“Christmas in July”, she thought to herself was one of the stupidest ideas her family had ever come up with. 

It had come together rather quickly, quicker than the speed of light, it seemed. I had a feeling that if Mom had thought the idea through, she might not have done it either. But now here they all were; stuck in the middle of this crazy Christmas. 

I think I understand now how those people on the other side of the world feel when they have nothing but warm sunny Christmases. This was one of the hottest days of the year, and presents or not, somehow, it just didn’t seem right. 

“I’m not looking forward to it one bit.” I thought to myself. 

My mother had gotten a call from my brother Rodney last Monday. Listening to her side of the conversation it sounded as if the world was about to end. 

Mom was crying, “Oh, Rodney, not so soon. Please say its not true.” 

Rodney must have said that indeed it was true and Mommy with tears quietly streaming down her face asked, “When will you be leaving?” 

Another silence and then, “Will you make it home before you have to leave?” 

He obviously said yes because soon enough everybody was making frantic plans. Mom only had a week to set everything in motion. Rodney would only be home for three days before shipping out to Afghanistan. 

She said a tearful goodbye into the telephone, relayed the message to the rest of the family and that was that. The idea of Christmas in July was born. It was to be just like the ones they’d always celebrated in December. 

“He didn’t make it home last year because of that foolish training he was doing out in that godforsaken place in Alberta.” Mom blessed herself after quickly realizing just how grateful she now was for that training. 

“And he certainly won’t be home this year either. He’ll be over in that heathen country all alone and now even Bob Hope is dead so I can’t count on him to cheer up my baby.” 

Two thoughts went through my head almost at once. “Who the heck is Bob Hope?” and “I always thought that I was her baby.” I was miffed but immediately felt guilty for thinking such thoughts. 

My brother is so brave and now he’s going off to war to fight those people who wore what looked like rags on their heads. And they don’t even wear proper uniforms. She mentioned this to her brother last night when he was tucking her into bed. She was much too old to be be put to bed in such a way any more but she humoured him just this one time. He even read her a story from WIND IN THE WILLOWS. It had always been their favourite series of books. They loved looking at all the beautiful pictures together when they were younger. 

After she had spoken of those scary men on the other side of the world who wore rag-tag uniforms and turbans on their heads he told her that, yes, this was the scariest part for him too. 

“No one can tell the good guys from the bad guys.” he said. “Even children act as soldiers sometimes.” 

Her eyes opened wide. First of all the idea of child soldiers horrified her and second of all Rodney had just admitted that he was scared. She had always thought he was the bravest person she knew. He’d always taken on the meanest bullies in school, protected her from the bigger girls who tried to steal her lunch money, and always seemed fearless and brilliant at any sport that he tackled. Even in his beautiful uniform he looked strong and brave and she was always so proud of him. 

Last night, after the lights were turned out they lay together on the bed and talked about the Christmases of old, when Santa was real and the joy of it all made their bodies shiver in wonder and anticipation. They giggled together over their mother’s silly notion of Christmas, now, in the middle of summer. Rodney explained to her that it was a comfort for Mom, something to keep her mind of his going off to war. She understood her Mom a little better now, understood the effort that she was making and how important it was to her. After all she was twelve years old, old enough to think more maturely about such things. At least that’s what Rodney had told her. She was struggling with the idea of maturity but promised to try for his sake and for her Mom’s too. 

Rodney was only nineteen. He told her that back in the olden days young boys of just fifteen lied about their ages and went off to fight the Nazis. They also talked about his girlfriend Liz, how much he would miss her, and about the beautiful jewels and other precious gifts that some of the soldiers were bringing back from their tours in Afghanistan. 

“I promise to bring you back something very, very special.” he said, as he gave her the tightest hug ever. 

It was the first time he’d ever kissed her that she didn’t wipe the slobber from her cheek in pretend disgust. Instead the kiss seemed to burn into her cheek long into the night. 

“Back to reality”. she thought to herself as she parked her bike, and longing for a long, cool glass of lemonade. 

She entered the house by the kitchen door. Before the smell of the turkey with all the trimmings could fill her nostrils, she was assaulted by a wall of heat so intense that she felt faint. Her mother, seemingly oblivious to the temperature, was cheerily bustling around the kitchen and getting the finishing touches on the dining room table. All the aunts and uncles and cousins were coming. Mom had a damp pink towel wrapped around her head, and looked somewhat like those people that Rodney was going off to fight. 

“Ronda, please keep an eye on the gravy while I go freshen up. I don’t want to scare the bejesus out of everyone at the dinner table in this getup. Be right back.” 

Dinner was tasty as usual although everyone was discretely wiping the sweat off their brow whenever Mom wasn’t looking. I couldn’t help but think that a family BBQ would have been more appropriate. Dad was awfully quiet, not even cracking his usual corny joke about playing the turkey...Continue Reading