Christmas in July

Christmas Magic

“ …and so, today, July 22, 2014, I am happy to give you the keys to your new home. Congratulations! Now that the closing is over, you are free to go ahead and move in today.”

Three hours later, Piper and Garret Bradshaw stood on the porch of their 1898 Victorian home in Pinckney, Michigan. Piper looked at the wide expanse of their front porch and sighed. She’d always wanted a home with a front porch big enough for rocking chairs, hanging flowers and Christmas lights come December.

Garret, indulging his wife who wanted a few minutes sitting on their new front porch before beginning to unload the U-Haul idling in the driveway, looked at the front porch and saw peeling grey-blue paint, floor boards that needed replacing before someone fell through them and white gingerbread scroll work that would take forever to paint.

Piper took the old and tarnished brass key from her purse and handed it to Garret. “You do the honors, hon.”

Thinking that a new deadbolt system was another thing on his ever-growing ‘To Do’ list, he fit the key into the double front door with its leaded stained glass and unlocked it, opening both doors to the entry with the antique chandelier and grand staircase.

Piper sighed as she wandered into the immense living room that took up the front left side of the house. On the mantle was an ivory-colored envelope with their names on it.

“Look, hon. The previous owners must have left this for us, Piper said, as she started to open it.

“Can that wait until we get the truck unloaded, hon? We only have the truck until four and it’s already after eleven. Pete and Danny are only here for another few hours. Unless, of course, you want to help me get the piano into the music room and all the upstairs furniture actually up the stairs?

Reluctantly, Piper put the envelope back on the mantle and went to help unload the truck. Neither of them noticed the impatient wriggle of the envelope.

The sun had set before Garret and Piper settled exhaustedly in the kitchen hungrily devouring the pizza that had just been delivered. The furniture was all (more or less) in place, the kitchen was halfway put together, they’d found the filters for the coffee pot and their bed was made up in the tower room on the second floor. There were mountains of boxes scattered about, the biggest pile, by far, in the library across the hall from the living room. Garret’s workshop tools were temporarily stored in the barn out back, there was a large pile on the third floor landing that was yet to make it up the stairs to the attic.

Slice of pizza in hand, Piper wandered out to the living room.

“Wish it was cool enough for a fire in the fireplace,” she said to Garret as he followed her in
.
“Not till it gets cleaned! There’s probably a bird’s nest in it or something.”

Piper giggled. Then she saw the letter, still sitting on the mantle. She walked over, picked it up and settled on the couch next to Garret to read it.

Dear New Owners,
We truly hope you enjoy your new home as much as we have enjoyed it the past eighty years. It truly is a magical place and we have loved living here. We have a surprise for you. Down in the basement, in the back left corner is a cold storage room. (It is where we put all the foods we can every summer.) On the top shelf in the back is the last of our Christmas jars. Every December we put up some of the Christmas Spirit. We hope you will continue to do the same. Open the jar in the living room when you get a chance. Enjoy.

Piper was halfway down the basement stairs when she yelled to her husband to grab a flashlight.

“Do we really need to do this now?” he asked tiredly.

“Of course we do!” she answered excitedly.

Together they dodged cobwebs and went to the back corner, opened the heavy wooden door and looked inside. The beam of the flashlight showed an empty room except for one canning jar on the shelf.

“It’s empty,” he said, shaking his head.

“Bring it anyway, I want to see it.”

Back upstairs in the living room, Piper examined the ‘empty’ jar. The label read: Christmas Spirit, 1984.

“That’s the year I was born,” Piper exclaimed. “Feel the jar! It is warm.”

“Of course it is. It’s still eighty degrees out!”

Giving him an exasperated look, Piper unscrewed the lid.

She blinked. A fire roared in the hearth, a fully decorated tree dazzled in the front window with presents piled beneath it.

“Do you see …”

“What the heck?” They both spoke at once. On their feet now, they spun around.

“Hon! Look at the porch!” Piper ran outside, shivering in the unexpected cold. Lights curled around the porch railing and a huge wreath hung in one of the openings.Fluffy snowflakes were falling to the snow-covered street. “It is so beautiful! Just as I imagined it could look!” She whirled around and kissed him. His arms came around her and neither of them noticed the mistletoe overhead.

Pulling back from the kiss a few moments later, they noticed the living room was back to normal.

“We are absolutely going to save some Christmas Spirit in the jars. Lots of jars!”

Shaking his head, wondering if he could possibly be that tired, Garret followed his wife upstairs to bed.

The next morning, Piper met Agnes, the lady next door. “Last night I could have sworn I saw Christmas lights on your porch,” the woman said with a smile. “The Nichols’ left you one of their jars, perhaps?”

Piper smiled. “Best house-warming gift ever!”



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"I wish we could put up some of the Christmas spirit in jars and open a jar of it every month." ~Harlan Miller
If we could open this jar of Christmas spirit in July, what would happen?