Second day of Christmas
The weather drizzled late in the afternoon and turned to rain in the night. It was just light the next morning as Timmy looked through his bedroom window and saw the sheets of ice hanging down on the power lines and the trees looked like Sikorski crystal figurines. They sparkled. He pulled his phone out and took a picture.
Single-mindedly, Timmy was moving fast he traversed the kitchen. Dad was sitting at the table sipping a hot chocolate not doing anything particular. “Tim.” That brought him up short.
“Dad? Morning.”
“It’s single digit out there.” He smiled. “You need some breakfast before you go out.”
“I’m not…,” Timmy started to protest.
“Don’t matter. Most important meal of the day. Have some cereal at least.”
“Okay.” Opening the cupboard, Timmy pulled down a bowl and set it on the table.
“Take your gloves and coat off. You can put them back on when you go out.”
“Dad,” Timmy said between heaping bites. “What would it take to fix a gate hinge that came loose?”
Hid dad leaned back in the chair. “Well, it depends on why it came loose. Ought not to be too tough to repair. Why.”
Timmy told him about Mrs. Davenport’s gate.
“I’ll take a look at it.”
#
Timmy walked along with his dad pulling a wagon until they were in front of Mrs. Davenport’s house. There were no lights on inside or out.
“Here, Dad. Think we can hang it back up?”
“I’m sure we can do something.” Lifting the corner, he wiggled the gate, and the top hinge let go of the post. Timmy’s dad chuckled. “Looks pretty shot. I’ve got some new hinges in the garage I haven’t used. We can fix this.” He pulled a tape measure out of his coat pocket and stretched it around the post. “I have some cedar boards we can cut to clad this old post with.” Lifting the gate to inspect it. I think we’ll just make her a new gate to mount. You want to help.”
“Yeah. But I have something to do first.”
His dad looked at the wagon. “I see. Come on home when you’ve finished.”
“Okay.” Timmy watched his dad head back up the street with the gate in his hand.
Grabbing a pound coffee can out of the wagon he dipped it in the sack. It only took ten minutes to salt Mrs. Davenport’s walk before towing the wagon back home. Then he pulled out the spade.
#
That evening Timmy held the new gate in place while his dad drove the screws in the stainless-steel hinges with his cordless screwdriver.
“There, good as new.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
#
Timmy opened the card to double check the message and slipped it in the mailbox. He heard the door open on Mrs. Davenports house. He took off at a brisk step and stopped at the corner where he could still see her.
It took Mrs. Davenport awhile, but not as long as before for Timmy scrapped the troublesome clumps of dirt off the walk with a shovel when he spread the deicer. The ice was all melted from her path. She stopped at the closed gate and studied it. Reaching out a hand she flicked the clasp and pulled the gate open and slipped by it to the mailbox.
Reaching in the mailbox, she took out the card. As Timmy had before he mouthed the inscription as she unfolded it.
Merry Christmas on its second day
Your neighbor
Nice story, and wonderful sentiment. I know all about the single digit temperatures and all the ice. We all need to attempt to help out those who could use it.
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