A Sea Isle Christmas

The late November day was gloomy, gray and cold as we crossed the causeway to Sea Isle City every inch of the car bursting with the last items from our move from Delaware to our summer home on 72nd Street.  
Now, that is a bit of a joke as it was more like a clean-it-up in spring for summer renters house.  Fall was another story. September always made up for summer loss. 
Fourteen-month-old Greg was strapped into a car seat; dog Sudsy grimaced in a small space beside him periodically checking the positions of the boxes surrounding her until the smell of the sea permeated.  Then, started the whining and the wiggling.  
In moments, we crested the Sea Isle bridge where the first glimpse of the ocean always thrilled; It could be smooth as sea glass and dotted with sails or roiling brown sea foam over the seawall. 
Today, it was grayer than the gray day and undulating in the dwindling daylight. 
An opportunity brought us here.  Until we could move into a larger house, the three-bedroom ranch held its own furniture and our other entire household of belongings. 
All the mattresses and box springs were stacked so high in one bedroom I joked we’d need a ladder to get in bed. 
Jammed in the corner against the pile of mattresses was the crib – a perfect location for a determined baby to tumble over the edge and squeeze in with mom and dad.
The other two bedrooms held ceiling to floor boxes and bags.  The washer and dryer squeezed into the dining room covered with the second set of kitchen utensils. 
Couches, chairs, and tables ringed the living room leaving only a few feet to move.  Even though Christmas garland could be strung over box and under shelf, no room remained for a Christmas tree. 
Baby’s first alert Christmas, and there would be no tree. 
So, on Christmas Eve, we traveled to Mom Mom’s house on 63rd Street.  Once the heat was turned on and the house was warm, we tucked Greg snug in his pajamas into a playpen.
Of course, we left the side down as he would jump out anyway.  Then, we devoted the next hours to decorating a ceiling tall tree and positioning too many gifts under it – enough for a down payment on a first year of college. 
A stuffed rocking horse and a jumping horse.  Two types of bicycle.  Piles of puzzles and books.  Stacks of stuffed toys.  Plenty of gadgets.  
Stepping back, we savored the splendor of the glinting, radiant tree secure in the knowledge that this splendid scene would charm our little boy.  And, it did. 
He was enthralled with the beauty and joyously tore open the packages before falling asleep under a branch long before they were all opened. 
But this evening, I had to take Sudsy out before bed.  Nowhere in sight, I peered behind couch and chair and looked under the table in the kitchenette.  Where could she have gone?  Then, I spied her under the tree between the squat stuffed rocking horse and a fat Teddy bear.  She was E.T. before E.T.
Laughing, I called her, and together we went out into the chill of a beautiful night.  I settled onto the cold cement stoop as she celebrated the scent of each blade and stone in the contiguous lawns. 
A hundred yards away the sea softly murmured as gentle waves slipped onto the shore.  Everything else was silence domed by a black velvet sky freckled with brilliant stars. 
A holy night.
Finished sniffing, Sudsy joined me on the cold cement pressing her head gently against my side. 
I slid my arm around her.  For a long time, we sat in silence watching the night sky before the chill drove us to the warm inside on this our first Sea Isle Christmas. 
McCarroll writes from Sea Isle City.