There is an excitement in the air all around him. Workers in the dark sooty factories forget their aching backs and cold feet. He works with a light heart today - he steals glances at the clock as often as he dare - and yes as he checks his pocket - it is there.
The siren finally blares - workers hurry for the door - anxious to be home with families on this Christmas eve night.
His heart pounds - his breath heavy in the cold air as he navigates the team of horses along the frozen path. Up ahead he sees a wagon on the side of the road - its wheel broken, stranding its cold passengers. Four sets of warm eyes sheepishly plead as he pulls the horses to a halt.
It's there up ahead - warm lights glow from the parlor window. Cedar and fir garlands drape the fireplace mantle. Figures scurry - platters are laid out - the piano keys dance - candles flicker on the tree. He pushes the door open - a warm grin and eyes all lit with breathless anticipation. Across the room - there she is - his bride to be.
He ushers the family in - coats are taken - warm coffee is served. They gather around the fireplace - strangers no more. He straightens his tie, and pulls it from his pocket - with his strong warm hands he takes her tiny finger and slips it on - she beams - tilting her head up she kisses this man - her love.
She sheepishly approaches the cold pile of new earth. Lovingly she takes her cold finger and slips it slowly off - full of reference and respect. She slips it carefully into her suit pocket. She glances up - there they are - two black suits laboring with each step as they walk arm in arm towards the waiting car. Never strangers.
{ Harry and Etta married December 24, 1889 } |
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