When you lose someone special in your life, it makes it difficult to celebrate Christmas. With a heavy heart, you try to get through the season.

What you need to do to make this happen is unclear. However, you may discover the answer in . . .

The Brown Suede Glove—A Christmas Miracle

     With Christmas only seven days away, I hoped the weather would clear up. We’d had five rainy days in a row. It was driving me crazy. But today, my wish came true and my world glowed. So much so, I could hardly handle the bright sunlight. It made me teary-eyed.

     I’d been cooped up in the house with absolutely nothing to do. The coming of Christmas was almost invisible—a naked tree stood in the middle of the living room. No decorations or lights hung anywhere else. My mom, Lydia, sat on the couch watching TV. She stared at it, but I didn’t believe she saw anything. Her eyes were vacant. Since losing my dad, Marcus, thirteen months ago, she appeared to be lost in a world of despair.

     Dad, an avid walker, was walking home from the shopping center, two miles from our house. He had gone there to buy a Christmas gift for my mom, his beloved wife. As he neared the golf course entrance, a few blocks from our house, a car swerved out of control knocking him almost five feet away into the bushes. He was rushed to the hospital, but died two days later. No gift was found at the scene. Guess he didn’t find one good enough for the woman he loved. Nothing has been the same since his death.

     Crash! What could that be? It was so loud I couldn’t stop shaking. Mom jumped up off the couch and raced to the back door.

     “Ollie, stay here. I’m going to find out what happened.”

     Since I don’t always do as I’m told, I slid off the chair I lounged in and followed close behind her.

     “Ollie.” I said, “STAY.”

     But I didn’t.

     Opening the slider, she ran into the yard, moving her head from left to right and back again, surveying the area to see what might have happened to cause such a ruckus. Not seeing anything or anybody that could be the culprit, she turned and went back into the house, leaving me in the yard.

     Okay, now what? I thought. I wandered over to the back gate, which had been left open. I figured this was an omen, so I pranced through it and down the block to the corner. I started to turn, when I heard someone call out to me.

     “Hey, Ollie, it’s me, Maggie,” she yelped.

     My heart began to beat out of control. Maggie was the love of my life, the girl of my dreams. What she was doing out alone puzzled me. But no one was accompanying me either, so it must be fate. I wiggled my butt, as I walked toward her. I rubbed up against her, quivering as I did. This was ecstasy at its best.

     “Hi, handsome. I’m so happy to see you. You make me tingle all over,” she said.

     “Hello, babe. I’ve missed you,” I responded,

     “I’ve missed you, too, sweetie. . . . What do you want to do now, Ollie?”

     “Just hang out, I guess. I didn’t have any plans when I left the yard and still don’t.”

     “Okay. Let’s go over that way, towards the golf course,” she said in her soft poodlish manner.

     “Sounds good to me. You lead. I’ll follow.” And off we went—two kids in love with each other and passionate about all life had to offer. As we approached the entrance to the course, Maggie stopped in her tracks—her body frozen stiff.

     “Maggie, what’s wrong? Answer me. Please, you’re scaring me. Say something.”

     “Uh, Ollie, there’s something awful lying on the curb. And it’s pointing its finger at me.”

     “What are you talking about?”

     “The brown thing. It’s a . . . a . . . hand, I think.”  

     “Brown thing? What brown thing? I don’t see a brown thing?”

     “Forget the color? Look on the curb, Ollie.”

     “Okay. Oh, my! Maggie, it’s moving.”

     “Ollie, I’m frightened. Let’s get out of here.”

     “Not before I find out what it is. Come on. I’ll protect you.”

     “You’re crazy, Ollie. It’s going to get us. My mother will fall apart if she loses me.”

     “You’re blowing this out of proportion, Maggie. Just stay here. I’m going to check it out.” I moved cautiously in the direction of the hand, as it slid slowly toward me.

     “Please, Ollie, don’t do this. It’s going to get you,” Maggie yelled.

     “No it’s not. Keep quiet. You’re going to scare it.”

     “Uhhhhhh, I don’t know about this.”

     As it got closer, it appeared to be wet, muddy, and slimy. It was a hand, or . . . a glove—a leather glove—like Dad wore. I turned my head back toward Maggie and muttered, “Maggie it’s a glove. Your mom probably has one like it.”

     “But this one’s moving, Ollie. It’s alive. And gloves aren’t alive.”

     “Calm down, Maggie. I’ll get to the bottom of this.” And so I did. For I mustered up all the courage I could and brazenly ran toward it. Grabbing it in my teeth, I pulled it up and ran with it hanging from my mouth to Maggie.

     As I approached her, she screamed, “Ollie, something came out from under the glove when you grabbed it. It’s coming after you. Run, Ollie, run!”

     “It’ll be all right, Maggie. Just stop yelling.” I turned and saw the cutest little mouse. It must’ve carried the glove from the rain-soaked mud under the bushes to the curb. I dropped the glove on the sidewalk. “Maggie, it’s the mouse that was making the glove move. The glove’s not alive.”

     “Are you sure, Ollie?”

     “Yeah, I think so. It doesn’t seem to be moving anymore.”

     “Ollie, the glove spit something out when you dropped it on the ground.”

     “Stay back. I’ll get it.”

     “Watch out. It could be dangerous.”

     “I don’t think so. It’s shiny and pretty.” I picked it up. It had a chain attached to it. Then I dropped it back on the ground to get a better look at it.

     “Ollie, I want to go home. This whole thing has freaked me out.”

     “All right. Let’s go.”

     I grabbed the thing’s chain in my mouth. Maggie looked surprised. “Why are you taking it with you. Ollie?” she asked.

     With the thing dangling from my mouth, I mumbled, “I need to show it to Mom. Maybe she can make some sense out of it.”

     “Fine, but I’m going home. I need my mom to cuddle me and make things better.”

     When we reached the corner of Addison Way and Lodge Avenue, Maggie went one way and I took the other path to my house.

     Arriving home, I trotted back through the open gate, crawled through the doggie door, and went into the kitchen, where I heard the banging of dishes. I barked as best I could, with the thing in my mouth, to get Mom’s attention.

     She turned away from the stove and looked into my eyes. “Well, it’s about time. I’ve been looking for you all afternoon. The neighbors were helping me. I was just going to call the “police” to find you, but, thank God, you’re home now.”

     Oh, no! They’d arrest me for running away and send me to prison. I’m so glad she didn’t do that, I thought.

     “What do you have in your mouth, boy?”

     I swung it back and forth. She leaned over and took it from me. Then she moved it around in her hands and stared intently at it. ”Where did you find this, Ollie?”

     Not expecting an answer, tears began to flow from her eyes. I got as close to her as I could and rubbed my furry schnoodle body against her leg, as she read from the tag hanging on the chain, “My darling Lydia, you are always in my heart. I will love you forever, Marcus.” Tightly embracing it against her chest, she strutted into the living room and hung it on a branch of the Christmas tree.

     She turned toward me and smiled—a warm, loving smile I hadn’t seen in a long, long time. “Ollie, its time to put up our decorations.”

     In a way, I would never fully understand, Dad had mysteriously come back into our lives. It was, indeed, a Christmas miracle.

Copyright © 2018 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.