Lalla's Christmas

Lalla's Christmas by Faye Trail Deaton 7 I woke to the rattle of coal being dumped into the kitchen stove. "Well, it will soon be Christmas," said Mrs. Smith, who lived in the house next to ours. "You can fair feel it in the air." I looked around my room; everything was a little out of focus and kind of shimmery , but I didn't see Christmas anywhere -just what was always there. A large wooden box sat under the window, dressed in its bright cretonne cover, holding Mother's quilts. A chifforobe stood against the wall to my left, and a heavy rocking chair sat beside my iron bed. As far as I could tell, nothing was in the air except the strong smell of frying onions-onions that would soon become a poultice. "I know you don't like it," Mother would sympathize, applying it to my chest, "but it will help Weak up this ole pneumony." Maybe that's why I couldn't see Christmas. The stinky onions must have run it out. "Yes," Mother was answering Mrs. Smith, "1934 is almost over. Pour you a cup of coffee, Florrie, while I finish here-it's fresh and hot just as-." The rest of what she said was lost in the clack-clack-click, clack-clack-click of the coal train going by, close to the house, making the walls and floor vibrate . As the train picked up speed, it flung it's mournful whistle ahead in warning to any creature that might be on the tracks. "Wanda has almost learned her part for the school Christmas play," Mrs. Smith was saying, as the sound of the train faded. Christmas again. My mihd tried to catch a cobweb of thought, but its fragile edges wavered just out of reach. The school play-it had to do with the school play! Then I remembered. I had been one of the first graders picked to be in the Christmas play. My white crepe Eaper dress, silver tinsel halo, and wings ung on the back of my door. "Take a little soup, honey, it'll do you good. Lordy, you re so skinny, if you turned sideways a body couldn't see you," my grandma scolded. I wondered how long she had been sitting on the side of my bed? I closed my eyes and turned my head away from the steaming blue bowl she was holding. When I turned back, she was gone and it was nighttime. Moonlight filtered through lace curtains and scattered across the bed. Time was all crooked. Day and night changed places in dizzying sequence. People mysteriously appeared ana disappeared in the chair by my bed. Voices spoke to me from far away. Old Doc was there with his gentle hands and kind face, then Mother, anxiously trying to coax a spoonful of ice cream past my dry lips. My brother, Ray, standing in the doorway, looking lost. Crying. Before I could ask him what was wrong, the room swam away and was gone. "I declare, that doctor has not been out of earshot since she took so bad." remarked Mrs. Smith. "He may be a company doctor, but he's goodL The dollar a month cut from the pay of our men for his salary is money well spent." "Yes," Mother agreed, "he s been sleeping on the sofa and checking on Lalla all through the night-he's even holding office hours in our front room." "How is she?" I heard Daddy ask. I opened my eyes slightly and saw him standing by my bed. Just getting home from the hoot owl shift, the carbide lamp on his cap was still lit and a dented dinner bucket hung from his belt. He was barely distinguishable from the dark shadows around him. Only his eyes, bright with concern, showed clearly through the coal dust. Mother replied, "She's asleep I think; it's hard to tell if she's sleeping or unconscious. Doc says the crisis will be soon, says it can go either way." She sobbed softly and went on, "She s so little, how can she keep fighting, weak as this...