It is Christmas. Jude and I are not eating with family and friends, because it is a little too noisy and a little too bright. Someone is saving me a plate, they always do, because I spend many holiday meals with Jude. I don’t mind that much.
Jude wanted to drive. His hips are hurting, so we get in the car and go. We usually drive the Edens expressway, the highway that takes us out to Skokie and beyond. Up and down, we get off on Old Orchard Road, turn around, and head back. Tonight I drive right past the exit, though. I just keep driving.
We finally turn off on Old Willow Road, and drive a long twisty road that borders the woods. It is snowing, and the trees are beautiful. Christmas music is on the radio, and I am telling Jude about the snow, the animals that are out there, the owls, the foxes, the squirrels.
Jude loves to drive, he is usually loud and excited and talking up a storm. He is quiet now because he is in pain.
It was a good Christmas, it really was. We were together, not in the hospital. I was able to enjoy my boys and not fret and worry about what is next. Being present is not always easy. It was a gift, a mercy, to enjoy the day. I wondered if this would be Jude’s last Christmas. It is one of those things I do not say aloud, except to Don, because I know he is thinking it too. Two weeks ago we went to the Anti Cruelty Society and adopted a big, drooly dog, just because we wanted one. The dog is riding shotgun, paws on the dashboard. Jude reaches forward and grabs my hand.
We ride like this a lot, me with one hand behind me, holding Jude’s. I wonder if he is comforting me or himself.
Jude is worried about school, not that he doesn’t like his school, but days off make him anxious, because he doesn’t know when he is going back. Time is a pretty abstract concept, and he has trouble wrapping his mind around ideas like, “next week.”
“Jude stays with Mama.” “Yes,” I say. “Jude stays with Mama.” “Yep, no school.” He squeezes my hand. “Jude stays with Mama.” “Hey, Jude,” I say, “Will you stay with Mama?” He lets go of my hand and I see a flurry of joyful flapping in the rearview mirror. My eyes fill up with tears. I pull in to a driveway to turn around.
I pause before backing out, looking through the windows at the living room inside. I wonder if the people that live there are happy, and if they love one another. I back out and head towards the highway.
“Jude stays with Mama.” “Yep,” I say. “Jude stays with Mama.” The night is beautiful, blue and black with snowflakes floating around. It has been a good Christmas, and I am driving with one hand, holding on tight with the other. For now we are together, and we are headed home.