It was the last of the presents that Bobby opened. It wasn’t under the tree, instead Santa decided to hide it behind the sofa. A final surprise on a mild December morning. This one’s large cardboard box was wrapped in a piecemeal of old newspaper. The absence of a big bow or bright, new wrapping paper only piqued his curiosity. After his father pulled it from behind the old leather sofa, Bobby shouted in delight at seeing that the box was almost larger than he.
Bobby was an only child. His mother worked full-time busing tables at a local diner and his father worked three times a week stocking shelves after he had been laid off at his day job as a construction worker. The family was facing hard times. A lower-income family being slowly drowned by the recession. This year’s Christmas was bare bones. The presents were mostly used, the tree’s only decorations were some tinsel and a paper star that Bobby had made in art class. Dinner was going to be a box of fried chicken. Bobby’s parents did their best to hide their troubles from him, knowing that his innocence would be lost all too soon anyway. His mother’s salary barely covered rent, so his father had pawned off his tools and agreed to cover for his co-worker for the week, just so they could put some presents under the tree.
As Bobby began to rip the newspaper away, the words Radio Flyer slowly emerged. This one present,unlike the others, was new and gleaming, the result of a cash advance from Bobby’s father’s boss in return for working on the holidays. Bobby managed the tape with a pair of scissors and his father helped him remove the wagon from the box. As his shouts of joy filled the small house, his parents let themselves forget, just for a moment, the struggles that were sitting like a pits in their stomachs. They would remember this moment for the rest of their lives. It would be the last time they were together as a happy family.
With his father and mother hand in hand behind him Bobby headed out to the sloping sidewalk in front of the house with his red wagon in tow. He ran part way up the sidewalk, pointed the wagon toward his house, pulled his legs into the wagon and coasted down to his dad waiting to stop him. After a few times his father taught him how to stop by using his feet as brakes. Bobby rushed up the sidewalk again and much to his delight found that he could indeed stop by himself right in front of the house. With his mom watching him, his father went back inside to grab a coat and hat for him so he could continue to play in the crisp winter air.
Ten years later, alone and somewhere at the bottom of a bottle Bobby’s father still blamed himself. Blamed himself for leaving. Blamed himself for not saying I love you. Blamed himself for buying that damn wagon. Mother blamed herself as well. Blamed herself for not stopping him. Blamed herself for not being able to see him grow into a man. She too alone with her substance. They remembered that he was no longer here and clung to that one short moment when they were a happy family.
The chilling wind rushed past his face tearing up his eyes and filling his ears with a hollow whistle. The tires on the wagon jumped along at a great speed making a vibration that tickled his feet and rattled his jaw. He laughed so hard his sides hurt. For Bobby, this was the happiest moment of his life.
legooberious 